Under Protection
by mercurial2010
Summary: An AU fic written in collaboration with Kabr. When hardened gangster Brendan Brady meets 16 year old Steven Hay he knows he will go to any extent to keep the boy under protection. What he doesn't realise is that he's in need of a safe haven too. Stendan, M, obvs!
1. Chapter 1

"Under Protection"

An AU fic by Kabr and Mercurial2010.

**A/N:**

Mercurial says - I know I have two other unfinished fics and I am working on them, they will get done promise. I just had this idea through a combination of watching Doctor Who and Winters Bone and Kabr liked it too so YEY :D It's my first ever, ever, actual-AU fic :O! So I really hope you enjoy it, big love to you all, MWAH.

Kabr says – This is my first ever fic so I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And none of it would have happened without the amazingly talented Mercurial2010 who offered me this opportunity and continuously supported and encouraged me. She is a superstar!

**About this fic:**

Right so it's AU so we're having a little fun changing aspects of the characters whilst trying to keep them ahem in character!

The only backstory you need to know at the moment is:

Ste is 16, he lives in an estate in Chester with his mum, step-dad Terry and his twin half-siblings Leah and Lucas. They're broke, live on the dole, and it's down to Ste to make all the money he can. At the beginning of this fic Ste accepts a babysitting job. It turns out he's looking after the two sons of local gangster Brendan Brady's. Brendan is 35. He has a lot of money but nobody really knows how, just that he's bad news.

Brendan had an open marriage to his sons' mother, Eileen. Eileen was the only one to have known, loved, respected and accepted everything about him, including his sexuality. She has been out of the picture a long time but very few people know for certain what happened to her.

This fic will be told in alternating POV's, we start with two chapters from Ste, then have two chapters from Brendan then it will be every other.

This fic is dark and adult, there's going to be bad language and scenes of a sexual and violent nature. We hope you enjoy ;)

You all know I (Mercurial) love reviews, and this is my talented superstar Kabr's first ever fic so please let us hear some words :D!

**Chapter Warning:**

A little smut.

Some bad language.

**Chapter One – Ste Hay.**

"Use anything you like, just don't answer the phone yeah? And don't let anyone in. The fridges are stocked up, not quite sure what the nanny used to make 'em for dinner but you look like a bright lad so ask em, and eat something yourself too cos you look like you haven't got a scrap of flesh on your body."

When this bloke, Mr Brady, talks like this - all instruction, his accent is so deep and his words are all slurred it's like his speak don't fit underneath his big fat, proper ridiculous, moustache.

"You listening lad?"

I nod, for some reason my words don't come out right in this house.

"The chauffer will drop em off in about fifteen minutes then they're with you. You know do the usual with em, homework, telly, that shit. My sister will be getting them ready for school at six in the morn so make sure they get to sleep… y'know - whenever you think's a good time. I should be eight hours max, if I'm any later than three somebody will phone with instructions of what to do. Don't answer the phone before then though and don't let anybody in."

"You already said that," I remind him and he stares at me like his eyes don't fit in his head, like nobody's talked to him like that before and I guess they probably haven't. Pretty easy to be intimidated by him - if you don't live surround by his sort.

"Right well y'know, it's important. Thanks for stepping in at the last minute like this Steven, and I'm sure if you do good tonight there will be other babysitting-"

"Everyone calls me Ste."

"What?"

"I'm Ste, me, not Steven."

He stands proper still and slowly looks me up and down, sort of assessing, before walking towards me. I do get a little scared then, just cos of the way he's looking at me, like.

He only takes a few steps but it seems to take forever. He never takes his eyes off mine.

He stops a couple of inches away from me and inhales deeply as though he's sniffing me. And I can't explain it but I'm not really scared no more. I can see in his dark, deep eyes that it's not frightened that I need to be feeling.

He cocks his head to the side and leans in towards my ear.

"That's a ridiculous nickname so I'm gonna call you Steven, have a problem with that?"

"No, boss." I said it sort of as an impulse but it makes his jaw like twitch, and his teeth, which are proper white, bare. He looks like, I dunno, like he's excited, or something.

"Good," he says slowly.

And then he's gone.

***K&M***

When Mr Carter told me I could earn get a job babysitting some dudes kids, I didn't realise it would be for someone who has this much money. His house is proper massive. Bigger than the whole block of flats we live in. I mean it shouldn't be a surprise should it? Seeing as this is Mr Brady and all. Don't know no-one that's not heard of him, you know even little kids are told by their big bro's that you don't mess with no shit of Mr Brady's. Uncle Tony says Brady 'lives by his own moral code', guess that means he does the shit he pleases and screws everything else. He has a confidence about him like nothing would scare him but you better be scared of him if you know what I'm saying?

Not a lot of people that have met him though, or even real knows what he looks like, so let me tell you a little bit about him. He's tall. You notice that first off. Though, probably not real taller than me, he just seems it, innit? Like cos he's older or richer or stronger or something, he's just more in the room than anyone else. All bulked with muscle, but not too much muscle mind. Just right. I could see the buttons on his red shirt straining and his chest hair poking out from the couple he'd left undone. Probably too many buttons, looked like that John Travolter in those crap gangster movies Terry likes, like he'd be better off leant up against dinners in the 80's rather than here, in Chavster-Chester in 2010. He looks kinda good though, I dunno like powerful. And I kinda _like_ that...

Anyway, I mean he is powerful innit – that everyone knows. There are a shit load of rumours about this bloke. Mr Carter was kinda worried about me taking this job actually. He's like that though, knows what my life's like innit so just sort of cares for me. I can take care of myself though, even around the likes of Mr Brady.

***K&M***

I'm an alright cook I reckon, always have to do it at home for the twins dun I? As mam is never sober enough to.

They're good kids, Leah and Lucas, I make sure they look up to their big brother. I keep em safe, I do. And I want them to be happy you know, so they tell me bout their dreams. Lucas wants to be a pilot, and Leah she wants to be a vet don't she? Or a singer, I reckon she's got the voice for it too. Though Rhys just says I'm biased. One day I am gonna show 'em that I can do something with my life y'know despite the shit we live in, and they can too.

I make Brady's kids macaroni cheese and sit with 'em.

He's got two kids. Declan is the eldest, at ten. That funny age where you're not really a child no more but not a teenager neither. He's got this look on his face like he's not proper sure where he belongs. He's alright, though. Bit quiet, don't seem to have the confidence like 'is dad. And the youngest Paddy….think it's short for somethin' like Patrick or Padran or Padrun or somethin' like that. He's a cheeky one, full of energy. He's seven, same age as the Leah and Lucas. Though you can tell they go to the posh school that costs all that money. Speak proper, like.

It might be a little weird you know, sayin Brady's kids are alright, considering where they come from and all. No-one round here would describe Brendan Brady like that. But they are - dead polite and well mannered. Don't reckon Mr Brady is the family type anyway, probably don't play with em much. So guess it must be that nannies doing.

Funny what happened there. Girl, Lysney think her name was, around for a good few years, dead kind to everyone and then just sort of left one day, no-one heard nothing from her. That rich footballer she was hanging about with looked proper upset for a while. Things like that seem to happen to Mr Brady though, there was that odd thing about his wife as well.

***K&M***

After dinner, Declan and me 'ave a bit of a chat about school and football and shit, and we 'av a game of 'Crash Bandicoot' on the Xbox.

"You're pretty good at this mate," I tell him.

I reckon he's 'ad a lot of practice when the Nanny aint been about. Least they said the nanny was proper into homework and making them do schooly things like collect nature and look at worms and shit – suppose that's what she thought she should do with Brady's boys innit?

"Dad always plays this with game with me." He tells me, "it's our boy time"

Oh, so might of got somethin' wrong about Brady then – turns out he is the family type, after all.

"We play when he doesn't want to talk about work and what happened to mum and Lynsey."

Didn't get it all wrong then.

"And I can make him play if I want, when he's busy." He says, and then he looks kinda sad like he misses that.

"How you do that, mate?" I ask trying to distract him.

"I ask him about the men who stay over ."

Huh men staying over? Really…?

***K&M***

I proper need a whizz so leave the boys playing xbox. I find the, proper massive, bathroom. When I'm there my phone rings again and it's the third time he's called me tonight, Mr Fox. Yep, that is his proper name - I know right? He's my boss.

Don't get me wrong, didn't look to get meself set up for a drug job did I? But would take any job me. Have took any job. Use all I have to earn a bit of money, and yeah dealing might not be great but it's something y'know?

And at least I aint being used like in me other job.

Me mam and Terry spend all their money on booze , fags and gear so it's down to me to look after the twins. Uncle Tony helps, when he can, like. But he just gets loads of abuse from me mam.

Anyway, The Loft don't really look like that sorta place. You walk in and it seems like any other club I been to in Chester. Full of students on a cheap night out looking for cheap drinks or a cheap lay. Think Mr Fox uses that as a bit of a cover for all the other stuff that goes on. So I really didn't go in looking for a drug job, honest. Thought I was just gonna be collecting glasses or sommit, but Mr Fox said he didn't have any work at the club for a rat boy like me. He 'ad some other work if I wanted it but only if I could keep me mouth shut, like. All I have to do is sell some goods to me mates an' that and I get a good cut – easy money. And it don't hurt me.

Reckon other dodgy shit goes on in the Loft too, things I don't touch. I've over heard him a couple of times but he always tells me to get lost so I'm outta there pretty quick.

Mr Fox is average height and quite bulky. Not in a Mr Brady kind of way, though. He must be getting on for fifty full head of hair but nearly all proper grey. Likes to think he's some kind of mafia boss. Laughs at his own jokes and is right arrogant. He always put himself first and I reckon he would do anything to get what he wants if it involves money and women.

Didn't really mind working for him in the past. I got myself a problem now, though. Cos I don't have the money and I not got the goods no more neither thanks to Terry, so I'm kinda lying low right now. I'm actually bricking it a little cos I know what they do to small-fry like me that steal. There was one dude called Cam, it wasn't even him who got the drugs right it was his brother, but still they did him in good and proper, he's still in hospital by all accounts - three years later. Reckon I'll be alright if I keep my head low, and worst comes to the worst this job, lookin after Brady's boys, pays good, so I can pay back a little.

I hear the boys arguing and as I'm rushing to 'em I drop me phone on the floor.

I'm pretty good with kids and I know they're arguing cos they're tired and it is pretty late so I get 'em ready for bed. Reckon Mr Brady would find out somehow if they stayed up later.

Reckon Mr Brady finds out anything when he wants to.

***K&M***

The kids go down quite easily and I take another look around the house. And you would never guess this but the dude actually has a pool. A _pool_. It's in this like windowed room but set in his garden so it's all private, and out here in the country the stars are pretty bright reflecting off the water so it looks fucking sick.

I love swimming, don't I? Me. Used to go all the time with Uncle Tony. But haven't been for fucking ages, not since Terry kicked him out in case he found out my secret job, the one Terry got me involved in. That thought makes me a little sad, so I kick my trainer off and stick my foot in and the waters warm, you know, like heated. And there's happier memories now. I really want a swim, and it's still early right, Mr Brady's gonna be another couple of hours yet so I reckon I can get away with it.

I leave my clothes over the chair.

I just float on my back for a bit. Stare at the stars and think 'bout all sorts. Like what it would be like to live like this and not have to crowd into three jumpers in winter cos leckie money's been spent on skank, and having three entire fridges of food rather than jumping from the cops at Price Slice.

"Having a good night, Steven?"

It's his voice I hear first.

He's suddenly here, early, standing at the edge of the pool. And I'm naked right, so obviously I jump up quickly, and cup my cock.

"Shit I'm so fucking sorry," I say quickly, climbing out of the pool. "You did say use anything you want right It's only bloody eleven right, you did fucking say midnight blood and-"

"You have a really dirty mouth you know that?" He says kinda cocking his head to the side again in that sizing me up way.

"Sorry," I say, cleaning my language, remembering who's in charge – he said he's always the boss whether he's here or not.

He nods, like he's thinking_, good boy_, or something.

"Kids were fucking diamo-, I mean your sons were…great," I tell him.

"Just checked in on them, Dec really liked you."

"Yeah he's cool."

"Cool?" He says like he's not heard his son called that before and I wonder exactly how much time he spends with them – being passed from baby sitter to Lynsey to his sister.

He sort of looks at me then, like straight at me, like he's focusing only on me. And I feel the fact I'm entirely naked and the only reason he can't see my cock is my hand. He sort of seems to be closer to me all of a sudden, although he don't proper move at all.

"So-" he says, slowly, and I can see his tongue moving like he's licking the word.

"So?"

"Steven," he sort of breathes, like he's inhaling my name.

Then he is actually closer to me, and I feel the back of my thighs against his table.

"Are you gonna put your clothes back on?"

He's proper close now, like I could actually kiss him. He sort of seems to be breathing me.

And I think I see what Dec means now, about men staying over. Least Mr Brady looks like he might quite like this - me being starkers in front of him.

And I didn't realise until just a second ago how bloody turned on I actually is, and I feel my cock stir against my hand.

So I drop it, right, my hand. And his eyes flash, like literally flash – sort of fill with colour and then go pitch black. He stares at my cock like he thinks I'm dead sexy.

"Have you got a towel?" I ask, thinking that he might just decide to dry me with his body and that might be quite fun.

But instead he takes a couple of steps back and says, "I'll leave one in the bathroom for you."

And his eyes don't leave my body, but he's walking away.

"Come and see me in the kitchen when you're ready," he breathes.

Ready? For what?

And then he laughs like he can read my mind and shakes his head, "for your babysitting pay, Steven."

***K&M***

He didn't say nothin' as he gave me the money, just said he might call me if boy's need lookin' after again.

It was proper weird actually, in his kitchen, like there was something blocking the room. Well odd. So that's probably why I forgot my bloody phone innit? I left it when I was in the bathroom when Mr Fox called.

I can't leave it though, too important. And I'm half way down the street when I realise so I have to cycle all the way back again. There's no answer at the front so I go round the back and the door by the swimming pools open. I let myself in, calling as I go but there's no response and all the lights are off. So I decide to just go quickly to the bathroom and hope he doesn't think I'm breaking in and let the dogs on me or something.

The only light in the entire house is in the bathroom, it's the one over the mirrors so the room kinda looks orange. And Mr Brady's there but he's not seen me. He's lookin' in the mirror and there's this big red scar that runs right up to his jugular, he's got TCP and dabbin at it with cotton wool.

I sort of watch him, as he undoes the red shirt and reveals more scarring, using the disinfectant as he goes. There's seven scars I can see in all, those are the new ones any rate - there looks like there's some old stuff as well.

He's like massive, like strength ripples from his body and it's hotter than in all those magazines. And I feel hot, like he's giving off heat through those muscles and the spatter of dark hair. His arms are proper massive and he 'as a tattoo of a big cross at the top of 'is right arm, he's wearin this crucifix as well, this silver little thing nestled against all that chest hair. He don't look religious tho, right. He kinda looks like a sin.

He struggles with this big scar on his back, looks in the mirror to get it proper and that's when he sees me. I forgot I was staring.

"What are you doing here?!" He asks, like a threat.

"Door by the pool is open," he doesn't seem too shocked by that – guess no-on in their right minds would do a rob from Mr Brady.

"I said what are you doing here Steven, not how did you get in."

"I left my phone didn't I?" I say and point at it by the loo.

He passes it me, his eyes telling me to get out quickly. But thing is I've got a big mouth, everyone says so. I can't help it sometimes.

So I ask him, "what happened to you?"

He stares at me like I surprise him, like I keep surprising him.

"Someone needs to find a way to shut you up, you know."

"Wha'?"

"It means mind your own business."

And I see how angry he is so I say, "cool, no worries mate, I'll see myself out."

I turn round and start to leave but something stops me and I look at him.

"There's a kinda bad one on your back, prob can't reach it - I could if you like."

He looks at me as though he's questioning my motives but then with that slow Irish drawl says, "Please do, Steven."

I take the disinfectant and pour a little on the cotton wool, my hands are shaking a little cos of him watchin me through the mirror. He's watchin me like he won't ever stop.

I gently dab the scar on his back…he winces slightly and I can't help but place my hand on his shoulder to soothe him. He breathes out slowly and relaxes and I continue to dab and slowly wipe across the length of the scar. With my other hand I gently trace the lines of old scars taking note of each one, wondering how they came to be on this incredible body. I feel his skin respond to my touch, like he's enjoying it. I forget I'm doin' anything other than exploring him. I'm not really thinkin' no more.

He has this smell. It's not like aftershave, not proper, although it's like that expensive stuff Mr Carter let me try once. It's more like it's him, and even that makes 'im even more manly if that's possible.

He turns round and he's lookin at me, it's like I fascinate 'im or summet. Like I intrigue 'im. I can't 'elp but run my eyes over 'is chest. I just wanna see him all and there's like a proper lot to see.

This close his tatts look proper amazin', so I reach out and touch the one on the left side of 'is chest when he suddenly grabs my wrist but doesn't move my hand away. I look up and he's still proper staring, never taking his eyes off me. He reaches out, with his other hand, and gently sweeps my fringe off my face and slowly trails his finger down my cheek until he reaches my lips. He softly runs his finger over my bottom lip and I hear his breathing hitch slightly. He then pushes my hand that's on his chest steadily down until I reach his groin.

And it's clear, his cock through his trousers and we kinda look at each other like waiting to know who will be the first person to point it out. And he sort of nears me and he does that thing again like breathin' me in. and it's dead sexy that so I sort of reach up and

I kiss 'im don' I?

He pulls back quickly, and like growls - "what do you think you're doing?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Many, many thanks to the awesome FranceGLfan for the translation at the bottom

**Chapter Warning:**

This chapter is basically just porn!

There's quite a bit of bad language too.

**Chapter Two – Ste Hay.**

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It's alright," I tell him, and cup his cock, I wanna just _know_ him. "Won't tell no-one."

And he looks like he might resist at first but his eyes sort of close, blink slow. And he says, "not a soul can know that you're even hear, do you understand me?"

And I nod, cos I can be pretty discrete me, have to for my jobs, both of 'em.

And then he kisses me, sort of moans into my mouth as my hand jerks him real fast.

His head rests against mine and he pants against my lips a couple of times and then says "done this before?"

And there's so many answers I have for that question in't there? But I don't wanna think of none of those things now.

Anyway he's enjoying this, the way I'm touchin him - you can tell in the way he's breathing fast and shallow and noisy. And I wanna do this don' I? It's not about nothing else but the way his eyes are dark and powerful. And the way he looks at me like I could be powerful.

So I keep touching him, hard and fast and he says, "You better know what you're getting yourself in for lad."

So I say the memory_I can actually think about, "sucked a guy off at school once, a mate, Mr Carter."_

_"__He makes you call him Mr Carter?"_

_"__Course, he's like the supply teacher in'he? He's straight though – married with kids and everything."_

_"Steven," he breathes real low and comes proper close and I think I'm probably a little hard too. "Anyone who sticks their cock in that pretty little mouth of yours and comes isn't straight." And he sort of says it like he's patronising me but I don't get defensive like normal, I just sort of get more turned on._

"You gonna do that then?" I say and then I just get this thought so I go with it, "boss," and that makes him growl.

Fuck my bloods really pumping now, gonna be getting off in my hand all night.

"No, I wanna fuck you Steven," he says, "but I don't want you getting any soppy ideas over the thought of losing your virginity to me." And this is exactly the conversation I didn't want to have in't it?

It's alright though, cos I say "not a virgin am I?" and that seems to be enough cos he does that growling thing again and kisses me.

And I've done a lot of kissing haven't I, me? Men, women, boys, girls. But no-one kisses quite like Brendan Brady, it's hard like men of his sort do, with teeth and that fucking tash burns. But it's also like gentle, and wide and like there's space and time and we're just gonna stand here and do this for a bit. And it's like he wants me to enjoy it too, cos at one point I actually moan and that makes him hold me tighter.

His hands cup my arse and he's sort of lifting me. His arms are proper big right? And he's proper strong so I'm off balance quickly, all I can do is wrap my legs around him for support and he sort of seems to want this, cos he holds me tighter. He carries me through to his bedroom, kissing me all the while, and he turns me around so I kick the door shut.

His bedrooms proper massive, like bigger than the lounge or the pool room. His bed's right in the middle of it, these red sheets, same colour as his shirt, that shine like they're silk, and it's actually a four poster bed. There's this massive window that overlooks the lights of city. And the craziest bit of his bedroom – there's actually mirrors on the ceiling.

"It's proper like a porn pad!" I say out loud as soon as he stops kissing me, and I giggle a little, cos weren't met to come out loud that, was it?!

"It will be," he says like it's a promise.

Then he throws me, actually _throws_ me, onto the bed. Then his legs curve around mine, and it's like his entire body fits over me like I'm proper scrawny. His hands are fast on my clothes, though he doesn't go to move off his shirt or take off his trousers. And then when I'm naked he stares at me, proper stares. And I think perhaps I should be scared again, but he's looking at me like the last thing in the world he'd do is hurt me. And he's dominant but like protective with it.

He leans closer towards me and I push myself up on my elbows to get closer to him. He doesn't actually kiss me though - he just sort of stays there for a bit. It's not a kiss and it's not a fuck and it's just like he's looking. And it's not like nothing I've ever known before.

"Do you wanna take my clothes off?" He asks, and his words come like he's impatient or something.

Some guys like to be stripped.

"All of them?" I ask for pointers.

"What do you want to do?"

"Eh?"

"Do what you want to do-" he whispers, like… I dunno, like he wants me to be like equal or something. Like it actually matters that I like this too.

And he's looking at me like he's trying to understand me, like I'm proper worth understanding and he waits for my answer.

"I wanna leave the shirt on," I answer and he sort of grins, and so I add, "and the jacket, I want you to wear the jacket too."

"Have a thing for suits do you?"

Most guys I've had have been wearing trackies innit. 'Cept for Mr Blissett obviously, who was usually in that stupid golf get up - his cover to his wife. Even right at the beginning when I kinda liked it, I've never had a guy in a suit. But, I suppose, even back when I didn't proper hate it, it wasn't really about what I wanted was it? It was more about feeling like I was worth something.

Actually Mr Carter was wearing a suit the day I sucked him dry, now I remember. But I obviously didn't get off then. So I've never really thought before about what I like, I mean in that way, it don't matter does it? But now I do, I'm pretty sure Mr Brady in his suit earlier is the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and I don't know whether that's the suit, or whether that's Mr Brady, but it don't matter cos he's getting off the bed to put his jacket on and take his trousers off and he's gonna fuck me like that. He's gonna fuck me the way I asked, like the way I asked matters. And I'm proper hard.

He sort of looks at me as he stands there kegless, with that red shirt undone and his suit jacket over it. And he looks fucking incredible. It sort of makes his chest look bigger, you know all those muscles, and there's a tatt, of an ace of spades, on his ankle that just looks awesome. And he looks like I dunno, like a man.

"Open or done up?" He asks, indicating his shirt.

And he waits again, for my answer.

"That's good," I tell him.

Then there's a bit of silence so I say, "you look fucking hot." And he grins at me like I'm sweet.

Then he's over me again and he's reaching in his bedside drawer and I know that move. So I get in position for him, get myself ready. I'm still kinda sore from last night, so I only use one spitted finger to open myself.

"What are you doing?!" He asks like I'm being proper odd and I feel his fingers clasp my wrist again as he holds me still.

"Don't worry mate, I'll still be proper tight."

"What?!"

"OK look," I say taking my finger away, God he's going to fucking cane. "I'm ready."

"Steven - look at me," he whispers.

Some men proper get off on the thought you watch. I bend my head between my knees so I can see his cock hard and ready and still unsheathed but I guess he'll get around to that, he doesn't seem like somebody I need to worry about. Which is odd cos it's Brendan Brady.

"No, I mean, my face!"

OK, now, that's really odd. My muscles move a bit awkwardly when I work out how to sit in doggy and look at him at the same time.

"You know what this is?" He asks, holding this white tube in one hand.

And it takes me a moment but there's some vague memory of it, so I bluff.

"Course, lube innit?" But he looks through my words and his eyes get softer like he knows. Not that he knows about the secret, but like he knows what it feels like to have the secret.

But he's closer to me in a moment, and his breathings against my arse. And I tense for a moment cos I think he will be able to see the scarring but then everything, every-fucking-thing, releases. Cos he's touching me inside right, but it's not a normal touch, it's soft and gentle and like it's wet. It's his tongue. I feel his tongue flick like he's kissing me but down there, and his tash burns but in this like fucking good way. And I'm kinda aware I'm moaning and I hope he gets off on that cos I don't think I can stop as long as he's doing that. And even as he pulls back I almost whine.

"No-ones ever done that before have they?" He asks and there's something about the way he says it that shows I aint got no need to be shy.

So I hum my answer.

"Feels pretty good doesn't it?" He says and he sounds dead chuffed with himself so I hum again.

And then his fingers are inside me, and I can feel it's two with the scissoring he's doing but it feels kinda gentle and I guess that must be the lube.

"Never let anyone take you without lube, Steven, ever." He issues and it's like a command, like he has control for more than just the night.

I wish my life was that simple, innit?

He takes his time, pressing within me, and he even hits my prostate more than once, like it weren't just a mistake.

"Turn around, I wanna fuck you facing me," He whispers, and that's definitely different but I've stopped comparing him to others, he's not like no others.

I take his cock in my hand as he puts those fingers in me again. He's double bagged it, so he's clearly thinking of _my_ others. He knows I'm dirt.

But it don't matter cos of the way he's looking at me like no-one's looked at me before, like he's doing this for more than to just get off. And he's chosen me for more than being tight and young. Like it's cos I'm good.

He sort of comes closer, real close, and I feel his dick press against mine, and that's the first time innit – first time my hard cock's pressed against another hard cock and I know for truth now, right now in this moment, that I'm gay. Cos it's just amazing innit? Hard, thick, pulsing flesh against my own, and he's bigger than me but that don't even matter, cos of the way he's touching me.

He strokes us both and I know my eyes sort of half close cos of what he's doing. I can feel my eyelashes on my cheek, cos I'm proper blissed out aren't I?

And he breathes, "you're beautiful, Steven." And I think that that's the first time in my entire life anyone's told me that, and he makes me wanna be stuff for him, like do anything he wants.

He takes hold of my ankle, you know dominantly, and wraps it around his hip. But I wanna show him I can do better than that so I move my legs on top of his shoulders and I watch his eyes and he looks at me like I'm special.

He squirts more lube and adds another finger.

"We can go when you want you know," I tell him, kinda feeling a little desperate now, like I want to be full of him.

He leans closer towards me, presses our lips together just once, and then just leans up, his eyes mapping over my face like he's gonna take this slow and that's half the fun.

And his fingers move gently and softly for like hours. And I forget about last night's soreness, and I feel wide and easy, and he sort of just like opens me.

"I wanna take you now, Steven."

"About bloody time!" I say before the words are even in my brain and he sort of laughs at me, but in this way that says I'm pretty amazing.

He presses in slowly, and he's massive so I'm full and stretched, but it doesn't hurt not like usual, and I feel like there's more space so I sort of squeeze against him.

"Jesus fucking Christ Steven! You're so fucking tight. Are you OK?"

"…Yeah?" I say, a little puzzled.

He smiles a little, strokes a hand down my face, across my lips before replacing it with a kiss. And no-one's ever kissed me when they've done this before and I guess it's not really kissing cos there's not a lot of movement, it's more like he's just breathing into me. Like his carbon dioxide is my oxygen.

"God you feel amazing. Enjoy it, yeah?" He says and he doesn't move away, like he wants this lack of distance between us.

And he changes his speed and then his depth and then his angle, watching me all the time like he's trying to figure me out, like I'm worth figuring out. And then something proper odd happens, this bright light like blasts through me, and I feel my toes curl you know like when you're about to come.

"Jesus Christ you're so close aren't you?"

_Am_ I?

"I'm gonna keep fucking you Steven, it's gonna be hard cos you're so tight already, but I'm not done with you yet." His voice is like proper deep and rough, like grunts. "That OK? Tell me, Steven."

Oh he likes a talker, "Yeah I proper want you to keep fucking me, boss."

He smiles sweetly and says, "don't call me boss, not unless you really want to… But remember what I said – I'm always the boss whether I'm here or not."

And then he shifts again and it's fucking blinding that light, I sort of lose my breath in the face of it, and I know what it is now, I know it means I'm about to come. And I've not come in front of nobody before, and believe me it don't look great and I don't wanna disgust him, so I sort of resist at first, but that's pointless when it's Brendan Brady innit? No-one resists nothing Brendan Brady does.

Anyway he graps my cock, pumping in time with his fucks and he says, "come for me," and he doesn't give me a choice.

It's fucking crazy this coming right? Cos I can still feel him moving inside me and cos I don't have control of nothing and cos he could keep making me do this till I lost the proper world. But it's a good feeling and I just wanna give him more. Especially when he's saying things like, "yes Steven!" and "Oh God just like that," and "Jesus, Steven you're fucking magnificent."

I wanna give him everything.

My breath won't come fast enough and I'm squeaking like I'm choking innit, and I just feel everything let go and inside I quake.

When I come back to him, opening my eyes slowly, his eyes are fixed to my face like he can't see enough and he breathes, "God you looked fucking incredible!" And it's like I can feel the honesty in it.

And then he's pulling away, out of me, and there's this small part of me, that part that's not numb, that feels a little sad cos he said he's gonna keep fucking me didn't he? But I guess he doesn't wanna be in me, not after that, so I start to get my mouth ready, so he can get himself off.

But just as I do I feel another finger slip inside me, and I realise it's covered in lube, and when he moves out he starts touching his cock with lube too. And I guess I do feel a little tighter, you know after I've just come.

And before I can even say anything he's sliding back within me.

"You need to do that with me now yeah?" He whispers.

And I don't think I've ever come so hard than just a moment ago, I'm pretty sure I won't be hard for a while let alone coming. But then he lifts his hand from my cock and he's sort of dripping with me, and then he licks me off him. And I feel my cock jump – I think he could do anything.

He leans down and kisses me, proper wide. And there' a taste there now, like bitter, and I realise it's me. And that sounds pretty gross right but I think I must just be insane right now cos it's even like that's hot.

And he fucks me for a while these strokes that are hard but gentle, this pace he invented when he was inside me, and he's not really fucking me, that's like not the right word. Don't be an eejit it's proper not like making love, is it. It's more like, like this is what sex is. And this time we come together.

***K&M***

"I'm proper knackered me," I tell him, I'm not sure why.

He raises his arm from his eyes, been there since he climbed off me a while ago.

"You're going?" He asks when he sees I've changed.

"Yeah it's dead late."

"It's 5 am!"

"Too right, I've a French Oral tomorrow as well."

He raises an eyebrow when say those words, French Oral, and I giggle natural like. When I met him 13 hours ago I didn't believe he was gay, let alone a proper perve.

"It must take least an hour to get back onto the estate with that push bike."

"Yeah bout that," I agree.

"Are you gonna get any sleep?!"

"Well Leah and Lucas, they're my little bro and sis right, they're on this camp so I don't have to get em up like usual, so I can probably get a couple of hours."

He nods, and then turns back into his pillow and closes his eyes. Great I actually thought he might offer me a lift then! I shake my head as I climb off his bed, I guess he's just the same as everyone else.

"What?" He asks.

"What?!"

"You're leaving, pissed!"

"I just thought you might drive me right, you know seeing as it's not exactly my fault it's late innit."

"Why would I do that?"

"Exactly, it proper don't matter, night Mr Brady."

"Steven," he says calling me back, "why would I do that when you're staying here?" He asks and it's not like he's only just thought of it, it's like he meant that ten minutes ago.

"Here?"

"Yes, with me. I just have three conditions, the boys don't see you here in the morning."

"Course."

"No-one knows you're here."

I nod cos he said that before right?

"And you don't start thinking I'm your boyfriend."

"Why would I think that?!"

"I mean it Steven, I don't… I _can't_ do relationships."

"Yeah proper whatever, like I want people to know I'm hanging around with an ancient codger."

"I'm 35!"

"Same difference."

He chuckles, and sort of offers me a space next to him, lifting up the blanket. I step out of my clothes and start to lower my boxers.

"No you need to leave those on." He tells me, "neither of us will be getting any sleep if I have to do it next to that arse of yours, naked."

I pull them up and walk toward him slowly, he watches me this smile growing.

"And we do this again, next week," he adds.

"That's five."

"What?"

"That's five – conditions, the kids, the no-one knows, the boyfriend thing, the boxers and now round two – that's five innit?"

"You're pretty sassy you know that?"

I shrug, "learned to count a while ago."

He laughs shaking his head. I keep making him laugh and I kinda like that.

I climb in next to him and he places a hand on my waist, like it's gonna stay there for the night.

"So, French? You any good at it?"

"A little, Bonne nuit c'etait le meilleure nuit de ma vie – means night that don't it?"

He opens an eyelid, smiles at me like he knows it means more and kisses me one final time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

Thank you so much for everyone's awesome responses to the last two chapters we were very overwhelmed and so excited that you seem to like reading it as much as we like writing it!

And I just wanna say I (Mercurial) agree with 'Julie' I love the age gap too for all the reasons you said ;)

We really hope you continue to enjoy.

This is the start of Brendan's POV, we hope those of you who are waiting for a contrast find what you need – let us know :D

We love you and we love reviews :D

**Chapter Warning:**

Starts with a good helping of smut.

Ends with some angst.

There's quite a bit of bad language too.

**Chapter Three – Brendan Brady**

"Don't have long," Steven says as he loses that school tie and pulls his tight white vest from his body, exposing my favourite afternoon treat. "Didn't say but got a babysitting job tonight and the boys will be back from school soon," he teases.

I smile. He pulls this laugh from me naturally, like things are just easy around him. The last time I laughed when it wasn't about him – you know I actually can't remember. Even if he's not there when something funny happens, I think about him, and whether he'd laugh… I wouldn't ever tell him that though.

"The Dad gets proper pissed if I'm late."

"Does he?" I play along as he moulds into my side.

I swear my mattress permanently has the dent his body causes when I'm inside him.

"Hmmm," he says as he wraps his legs around me, my cock sliding between his arse as we get into the usual positions.

"Does he not treat you well?"

"Oh don't get me wrong, if I've done well he'll give me a great big bonus." His sweet lips breathe those fucking dirty words and his fingers reach for my cock. "But if I'm bad he can… punish me."

I grip his wrists, pulling his hands above his head, dominating him in the way that makes him bite his lip as he shines in anticipation.

"You say that like you like being punished, Steven." I breathe.

And it's a stupid thing to say because I know don't I? That he's had some sort of past like mine. And I know his eyes are gonna darken like that.

But he's addicted to my body. And I know _that_ cos of the amount of times he comes around after his exams – it's near on every day recently. So I'm aware that as I slide further against him, pressing my cock right against that hole, he will forget anything but the feel of me.

"I like the way _he_ does it," he tells me, happy again.

"Is that so?" I say.

I know my voice is lower. It always is when he looks at me like that.

I lean further down to him, press a kiss against the skin just by his top lip. I feel his fingers flex against my hands and he lets me know he's desperate.

"Yeah," he moans like he can't talk and I know that will be all the sense I will get from him for a while so I kiss him.

The kiss? Well, course it's hard and hungry, and wide. I have him moaning in moments cos I know him now.

He's got pretty cute lips this lad. They're softer and plumper and sweeter than anyone else I've ever had. He likes it when I touch them, softly explore them with my fingers, I like to see that plump bottom one bounce. He likes it when I kiss him wide enough so I can taste all of him. And he fucking loves it when I come against them, that hot pink tongue laps up all of me.

He is seriously good at head. You've never really experienced pleasure unless you've had him, whatever that pleasure is. It's been a while however, as we normally just opt for fucking. But I know he likes it too. So I hook him around with my body, and lie underneath him so I'm flat on my back.

And then I give him his instructions.

"Suck me off, Steven."

He likes to be told you know? And he's always asking me to teach him things. He's pretty expert at most things, so the lessons I end up teaching him are about his own body - whatever pressure, wherever the pleasure and he soaks it all up. It's obvious he's never had sex like ours.

I look up at my mirrors and see his head bobbing down onto my cock. I stroke my hand through his soft light brown hair. He's gelled it today, he thinks it makes him look cool or something. I prefer it when it's natural and ruffled, like when we've been swimming. But he's still fucking hot. I love the way I look when I slip into those pulled taut lips.

He pulls away slowly, so I feel fucking massive as I leave his lips. And he looks up at me, catches my eye in the ceiling mirror, smirks like he knew I'd be watching. And then the cheeky fucker winks at me. I slap a hand against his arse and he moans, his eyes closing in pleasure, plainly still wrapped in last night.

God! Last night.

He runs his tongue gently along the base of my cock and my every muscle flexes tight into the bed sheet. He's got all these tricks that just rob me of everything and leave me moaning. He does them on days like today, when he's clearly far too able to concentrate. But sometimes I like him to just loose himself, to just suck me like he's not thinking, like all he is this sexy creature that I've trained to fulfil my every whim. And I want that today.

I grab the lube and pull him back up to me with a hand through his hair.

"Hey…get yourself off at the same time," I tell him and he beams cos the cheeky fucker loves this, finger fucking himself as his mouth fucks me.

He spreads the lube clumsily around three fingers and I know he's still not used it with anyone but me. I wish he'd stop hurting himself.

He pushes those three fingers straight into himself and he shifts uncomfortably.

"Two!" I order, and he loses one and he starts to smile a little bit, so I add, "gently, like I showed you, remember?" And he follows my every lesson.

He moans sweetly as his lips slide back around my cock, deep throating and I can tell he's really enjoying this.

"Yeah you like it like that, don't you? Soft and slow."

It's not long before he's actually keening and my cock is shallower in those lips cos all he is is instinct, and he can't focus on relaxing enough to get all of me in.

And as I watch him touch himself some more I see the exact moment he starts to loose thought. So I say to him, "it's OK stop sucking me, just bring yourself off."

And he moans like he's grateful, but he leaves his bottom lip around the very head of my cock. His eyes plead with mine and I know exactly what he's asking me to do. And sometimes I let him give me instruction too. So I grip myself tight in my fist and pump hard and his moan skitters all over my aching flesh. He comes first and something about the way he does it pushes me over the edge.

"Oh God Steven!"

He must be slightly back within himself when I finally come because he drinks from me.

I smile.

He says, "fuck!"

And then we're both laughing again, cos that's the way it is with us.

As he stretches out on his back, I lean over him. His lips are so soft, his golden skin shining in our sex-glow, eyes sparkle so wildly, my out of control boy. With my face tight into his neck, our breathing slows together.

I know he likes this - our bodies pressed close together in post-orgasmic wilderness. But I also know it still surprises him that I wanna be close to him afterward. It's nothing I've done, it's just all the people before me. I wish penitence to every one of them.

I lean up and look at him, stroke my fingers over his cheek, and he smiles at me. This smile that's wide and happy. He looks at me like I'm good and magnificent. No-one looks at me like that these days - no-one has for as long as I can remember.

And when he meets my mouth for soft slow closed-mouth kisses he looks at me like I mean something.

But he's just a fuck, I could end this anytime. And in this moment, as I lie pressed into him, I decide that I'll leave him tomorrow. Tonight, I will let him come back to me after he puts the kids to bed. But tomorrow I'll tell him to leave me, for good.

You know it's the only way.

Now though I have other thoughts, "round two?"

***K&M***

That was a month ago.

It's been a month since I last saw him. It lasted three months, this thing between us; which was exactly twelve weeks longer than it ever should have done.

I shouldn't have even had him that first night, a lad almost twenty years my junior. But when I came back buzzing from the Heist he was lying, cheeky as anything, naked in my pool and fuck he looked wonderful. Delectable. And then he kissed me and he just looked like he knew what he was doing, like he was so much older than his sixteen years. And the way he enjoyed it – the way he was in my bed, it was like he came alive there.

He got under my skin, buried into my head like he had a place there, and it was hard to get him out. I did though. You know. Only twelve weeks later than I should have.

He got this look when I told him to go, to just leave. That after everything I didn't want him anymore. I will always remember it - it looked like he forgot who I was. That he'd given up, not just on me but on himself. I sacked him too, to make things worse.

I'm on way to see Foxy at the loft. He reckons he's got a business proposal for me. Been in partnership a while, me and Foxy, but he's closing in on fifty now, and he's old with it you know? Doesn't do a lot of his own dirty work these days. Think he'd rather sit with page three, a beer, and a foot stall.

I just get outside when I see a push bike leant up against the bottom of the stairs. In an instant I recognise it as Steven's. What the hell is he doing here?! I can feel my fists clenching, squashing the ham and cheese Panini I was just devouring.

I'm just about to fly up the stairs when Steven opens the door mumbling something to whoever is inside. I can see the large packet he is carrying and instantly know what it is. Steven looks down at me and some of that anger inside me turns into….what? Concern? Knowing what Foxy is capable of. What he did. I shake the thought out my head and turn as Steven follows me.

"Brady, wait!"

"Why, are ye going to try and sell me something?!" I say, nodding towards the package in his hand which he quickly hides from view, inside his jacket.

He looks at me like I don't know what I'm talking about, and I realise he doesn't know who I am. He always came across like he knew I was dangerous, but I guess he never knew quite how much.

"What are you doing, messing with this sort, Steven?"

"Lost my job didn't I?" He speaks spitefully. "Had to make dough somehow."

"You do this because of me?" Oh God don't say he started this up just cos I sacked him.

"I've never done ought for you," he says so bitter.

Neither of us say anything more. He doesn't make a move away and neither do I.

I just look at him. I look at his face which at the moment is scrunched adorably up in annoyance. It feels longer than four weeks since I saw him. I can't stop looking at him like I've been deprived. I'm finally feeling something other than isolation, and I'm not going to step away.

Eventually his face softens.

"How are the boys?" he asks, a little shaky.

"They're good." He got close to them during those 3 months. Looked after them a lot. The boys love him _too_. "You know, Steven, they still talk about ye."

We're standing closer now, we always are, it's not like either of us move purposefully, it's more like distance is too great an obstacle. I can't stop looking at those lips.

"Do you want to go for a drink?" He asks, and against my better judgement I feel myself nodding.

"Yeah, come on."

I need to know how involved he is with Foxy. And how much he knows.

***K&M***

He takes a seat as I get the drinks in. He orders a whiskey, but I'm not gonna have the boy drinking under my watch, so I get him a coke. Yes, a coca cola.

I'm going to need this whiskey. I turn to look at him and he's as inviting as ever. Golden skin, hair falling on his face, fucking incredible eyelashes lining those pale blue eyes. You know sometimes when you see a face, or a car, or a really good suit and you just have to look at it, and touch it and you just need it in your life….yeah….

I sit opposite him with the drinks.

"Thanks."

"So, what are ye doing with the package Steven?"

"Don't waste anytime do ya?" He starts to resist, but one thing I do know about Steven Hay is that as soon as you open him up he starts talking like his life depends on it.

So I shrug and say, "You know me."

Remind him of our connection.

His eyes look down at the table, he swirls the coke glass between his hands, but then he just starts talking.

"I just sell some gear for Mr Fox to me mates and kids at school. Nothing major. Just to get money for the twins, like. But me stepdad, Terry nicked all me gear for himself. Selfish bastard. So now I owe Mr Fox. I lost him money and he's being dead good about it and said it was ok and I could pay him back you know when I can-"

Foxy doesn't do favours. He'll just be biding his time – working out the punishment, he's patient like that. Steven doesn't realise what he's getting involved in. I need to get him away from there. He can't get caught up in this. He doesn't know what Foxy has done.

I know - the same does apply to me. No, there are no real differences between Foxy and I when it comes to the things we're capable of… and things we've done. So I shouldn't be here with Steven either. But Foxy's worse isn't he? He don't feel the remorse I do, have done every day for twenty years.

We're scum and Steven well he's…. innocent. Yeah I know, not that innocent, can't be with his upbringing, but he's not the same as the likes of us. Foxy's the very worst of humanity and my path's forever alongside his. So I need to protect Steven, need to get him to stop messing about with this shit – it's not as easy as he thinks. But how can I stop him without letting him know what I'm involved with? Who I'm involved with. Who I am.

I don't wanna ever let him into the real me, that look in his eyes isn't something I'm willing to gamble.

In my fourth whiskey I hit a conclusion. Steven's not the sort that can deal with the business, but he needs money and I need…what?

I need to get him away from Foxy.

I need him to be under my protection.

I need him to let me keep him safe, even if he can't ever trust me.

I just need - _him_.

I tell him to move in and look after the boys full time.

No, he doesn't take me up on my offer - that would be an understatement. He looks at me like I offered him a life time of cleaning toilets with a toothbrush! His words say he can handle himself, he's stubborn that boy. He says he doesn't need another 'father figure' in his life. Jesus, I'm not that old.

He storms out and I don't call him for a couple of days, and he doesn't answer his phone when I do. I tell you it's times like these I remember he's just a kid. I don't see him for a good couple of weeks.

***K&M***

Now I'm on way to see Foxy again. Said he needs more gear for his minions to sell. I'm not involved in all that. I just organise our guys with the production. That's as far as my part goes. Get it produced and then it's Foxy's to do what he likes with.

No, I don't want anything to do with him but I'm trapped. Trapped in his life and there's no way out. I used to think there was, when Dec was small I used to think there was hope, like a white picket fence future, but I've woken up now. I know I will always be in debt to Foxy no matter what he does. And I _do_ know what he's done, or at least I can't shake these suspicions of him.

I used to look up to him, when I was a kid. I thought he would always be there – he told me he would. I trusted him, but trust's a dirty word between men like us.

As I get to the club I spot it again, Steven's push bike. I told him to stay away! Why can't the boy just listen to me! I tell you, sometimes it's like I don't want what's best for him or something. I wait a while outside but he doesn't come out. I can't stand out here must longer, and Foxy's not answering his phone. So I don't have a choice. I'm going to have to go and risk Steven knowing what I'm involved in, it's not like it would matter when he's not talking to me anyway.

As I approach I get this feeling, you know like a sixth sense. You get a sense for danger when you move in the world I do. Only I don't feel like I'm in danger, more that someone close is.

I run up the stairs two steps at a time and fling the door open. There's no one inside but it looks like there's been a bit of a struggle. Broken glasses on the floor and a chair knocked over. My eyes dart around the room trying to see him.  
"Foxy?!"

There's silence, this deadly knifing silence.

"Steven?!" My hearts in my lungs, he might not have been involved in the struggle I know, but I can't shake this feeling. "Steven!"

Then I hear that egotistical laugh and Foxy's leaning against the door frame of the office.

"Well, well Brendan. Didn't know you were familiar with my rat-boy."

"Where is he Warren?"

"Why, what is to you?"

My heart begins to thump in my chest and bile rises into the back of throat. I know what he did to Cameron, and if he's done the same to Steven, my Steven, I'll kill him I swear it.

But Foxy's also a threat to those close to me. He takes them away, the people I care about. He makes them disappear. So I try to stay expressionless and give him a version of the truth.

"He's my babysitter. He was late. I saw his push bike outside so thought I'd see if he was here"

"He might not be babysitting for a while," he laughs. That look I'm scared of is in his eye. "He lost some gear. A lot of gear and hasn't paid me back so I had to teach him a lesson, show him who's boss."

Something inside me aches.

"Please," I say, as an impulse. I dig my nails into my hands, I owe it to Steven to be tough. "Look, Warren just, tell me where he is"

I get him to give me the address. It's this empty run down flat he owns in the rough part of the village. I drive round for a bit until I find the address. I jump out the car and fly up the stairs to the 6th floor. I find the flat and press my ear against the door, listening. I can hear mumbled voices somewhere inside. Not too many though I think. I quietly try the door. Locked. Fuck! I knock gently and hear a voice getting closer.

"What?!" someone shouts through the door

"It's Brendan," I think on my feet. "Warren sent me… to take over," although what I'm 'taking over' I have no idea.

The door opens and a man, well over six foot, bald head, stocky peers at me round the door. He's doubtful but I quickly see some kind of recognition behind his eyes . Maybe he's seen me at the club. He moves like I own him anyway.

He lets me in and I walk through, and that's when I see Steven.

Steven.

He's sat on the floor. Head looks like it's too heavy and is leant back against the wall, his pupils are constricted and his eyes are surrounded by dark circles.

Oh God, Steven.

He has chapped lips and he's pale. So pale. That beautiful smooth golden skin has lost all it's colour. His breathing is slowed.

Oh God, Steven.

I look at his arms and see the small puncture mark on the crease of his left arm and a small trickle of dried blood.

Oh… God.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

In case of any miss-understanding the age of consent in the UK is 16.

We're still so flattered and overwhelmed by the reviews – we love how you're all reading so closely and leaving such detailed responses, you really help us up our game and focus on the writing so thank you!

We also really want to take this time to thank all our amazing guests who we can't thank in person, but we appreciate every one of you.

**Chapter Warning:**

This takes off after immediately the last chapter so there's quite a bit of angst.

There's quite a bit of bad language too.

And at the end there's a nice bit of porn ;)

**Chapter Four – Brendan Brady.**

Oh God Steven.

"That's what small-fry get when they cross Mr Fox. A nice speedball," Foxy's lackey laughs as he kicks at Steven like you would a dog who'd given up hope.

Fuck he's had a cocktail of Heroin and Crack.

"He's still chasing the dragon." The thug explains the high, "but it shouldn't be long before the come down. It's been over 2 hours."

As I look at Steven his eyes momentarily focus on me but then he's back to wherever his brain has taken him – I can barely stand it.

"Right, then what?"

"Boss said to let him come down and, as soon as he's nearly with it, he needs mainlining again."

Fuck the bastard is letting him come down and then injecting him again.

"The lay-outs over there." He says nodding over to the small coffee table which has a tourniquet and five syringes full of light brown liquid.

There's three used syringes as well. That's enough to cause serious withdrawals. I try to think clearly for minute. Shit that means the bastard's had him here between six and eighteen hours!

"Are you sure Mr Fox wants you to take over?" he asks.

He looks at me suspiciously, as well he might. You know, Foxy doesn't give people jobs without explaining the minutia, doesn't want anything lost in translation, or his lackeys thinking they have minds of their own – never has done.

"What do you think?" I say. "Do you think I would come all the way down here just for fun?"

"Yeah ok. I will leave you to it. Boss says when you've used up all the Hype's to chuck him out somewhere."

Fuck they were actually planning to use all those syringes then just leave him somewhere. That's exactly what he did to Cameron. My mate Walker's little brother. One of the lads. Foxy got them some gear to sell but the little twirp deliberately screwed him over - selling gear for more than agreed and taking the extra cut. You know he always thought he was more important than he was. But to Foxy he was just another pubescent dope pusher, and he has an abundance of those at his disposal. To make sure everyone understood he proved his point and sorted it. In the way he's sorting Steven now. Walker couldn't protect Cameron. He's stuck in that hospice in a complete vegetative state. Walker took me to see him once. It was like he was trapped inside his own body. Unable to communicate or respond to anything or anyone.

But now's not the time to think about that – I need to get to Steven.

I listen out to make sure the man has gone.

"Steven… Steven!" I shout at him and gently shake him.

"Braaa-deeey?" He slurs at me…trying to focus his eyes.

"Steven! Come on focus we have to go," I say, knowing it won't be long before baldy phones Foxy or gets to the club.

I try to get him to stand but he says "diz….dizzy" and suddenly vomits. Then continues to dry heave. I don't know how long he's been kept here. I doubt he's had much to eat or drink lately. I sit him down on a chair and manage to find a glass in the kitchen and get him some water.

He drinks a little, although it mostly goes over him. He is so out of it. With two hands on his waist, I manage to get him to his feet and out the door. I have a quick look to check Foxy or his minions aren't about. Fuck we've got twelve flights of stairs to get down!

"I'm going to have to carry ye, Steven."

I fling him over my shoulder and take the stairs as quickly as possible. Course it's difficult - he's a dead weight and doesn't seem very responsive. I get to the car and place him in the passenger seat and put the seatbelt on before running round and getting in. I drive home well over the speed limit. Checking in the rear view mirror for anyone following.

I pull into the driveway and fling my door open, running round to the passenger side. I open the door and pick Steven up in my arms.

"Brady?" he looks at me seemingly a bit more alert.

The boys are away on a school trip for the weekend so I take him inside and sit him on the sofa. He looks at me as though he has no idea where he is or where he's been. He's shifty and restless, his eyes are darting from me to the window and he's wringing his hands together. I try to explain a bit of what happened but he suddenly seems fatigued and drowsy again so I lay him down and he drifts. This cycle of restlessness and fatigue continues for another hour. This is the start of the come down.

He seems a bit less drowsy now but still pale and he's started sweating, you know? He is complaining of cramps in his limbs and feels nauseous. I try and get him to sip some water, it's what he needs, but he shakes his head and stares out the window.

"I remember what 'appened." He says whilst absent mindly scratching his arms, "I went to collect more gear off Mr Fox when his sidekicks grabbed me. I tried to get away, I kicked out but they were too strong. Mr Fox said this is what 'appens when I don't pay up."

"They shoved me in the back of a car and took me to that flat," the scratching becomes more frantic. "Then…then they…one held me down while the other injected with some shit. I was proper struggling, I really was, but they shot it in an' I just felt this rush and me body went all jelly like," The scratching gets worse…he's bleeding now.

"Steven!" I grab his hands. "Stop it! Stop it! Look what you are doing!" He tries to escape my grasp. "Steven, look at me," I say gently and look into those eyes.

Fuck he's beautiful.

He looks at his arms and then up at me "I can't stop. It feels like 'undreds of insects are crawling under my skin. Brendan! Please, what's 'appening to me?!"

"Shh, calm down. It's just the come down from that crap they gave you. It's ok. Shh"

He suddenly jumps and wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face into my shoulder and sobs. Violently sobs you know, I can feel the tremors jerking through his body and the tears soaking my shirt. My hands are flaccid by my side but as I feel my heart rate increase and my feelings for this boy heighten, I wrap my arms round him and hold him close. Just hold him and stroke the back of his neck, soothing him.

***S&B***

The sobs eventually subside. He doesn't withdraw from my embrace. When he's back with me he says he needs to go home for Leah and Lucas. But he can't go anywhere can he? Not in the state he's in. I'm definitely not sending him back to his Mum. Christ, she doesn't look after him when he's messing about with these men that he likes – she's not going to support him through this is she? Anyway she won't support him the way I can. So I tell him I'll sort it, call in a favour. He protests - says he's fine, he's so stubborn, this boy, but I manage to talk him round.

When he finally agrees I tell him, "Leah and Lucas are lucky to have you."

He smirks a little, shakes his head and says, "they not got one lucky bone in their bodies."

I start to ask what he means but he asks for a shower, so when he's in there I make a call. Jen - she still owes me from that stuff with Housten way back. I tell Jen to go to the house, act like she's new to the area and looking for a friend. Be all charming to Steven's Mum and stay there to keep an eye on the twins. You know there's this sort of satisfaction over the idea of manipulating Pauline – yeah it's perverse but some people just don't deserve to be parents.

He comes down from the shower hair still damp, fringe sticking to his forehead, nothing but a small towel wrapped round his waist. I can't stop from looking him up and down, and you wouldn't either. But he catches my gaze with a reminder of what's been through. Now is not the time.

"Er," he says. He blushes a little – Lord he's adorable when he does that! "I was wondering if you have anything I could wear, like. Me other clothes got sick on 'em aint it"

Inwardly I shake my head at myself, he's so, so young, these feelings I have for him aren't right. But we both know I don't have the slightest control.

"I'm sure we can find something."

He follows me upstairs and I find the smallest t shirt I have and some joggers. But even with the waist tie pulled right in they look massive on him, he looks so small.

Looking at him looking so innocent I can't wrap my head around the events of the last twenty four hours – how much he's been through. Jesus, he doesn't deserve any of this.

Yeah, you can still see the small puncture mark on his left arm.

We sit in the lounge and he folds himself up into me, like he thinks he knows he's safe with me. And for the next twenty four hours I will do whatever it takes to keep him under my guard. He will remain in my protection. He deserves at least that.

Tucked up into me he asks me what's going to happen so I detail the comedown and withdrawal.

"You're going to feel anxious and scared and these feelings will be heightened. You're going to get angry. With me. With everything. And you're probably not going to be aware of most of it. And you need me here to take it. I'm going to be here to remind you it _will_ end. That you will get past it. And it will be tough but," I angle his face to look at me as I make him a promise, "_we_ will get through it."

"We?"

"Yes, Steven. We." I promise him, "this isn't something you can do on your own. I promise I won't stop protecting you."

He smiles at me, but you can see he's still scared. He doesn't deserve this, any of this. He's going to endure so much pain and so much confusion and I would do anything to take the bullet for him.

***S&B***

He's agitated. Moving swiftly about the room, pacing up and down, down and up. It's like he's waiting for something but he can't remember what.

He hits the wall for the second time and groans.

"God I'm so fucking tired!"

"Come and sit down," I say, keeping my voice calm.

"That's not going to help anything is it? They're still gonna get me."

He's paranoid and frantic; yeah he's on the long way down now.

"No-one's gonna get you here Steven, I promise."

He looks at me, long and hard, like he's sussing out whether he can believe me. But then he turns away from me. His whole body starts shaking. And when he turns back tears blink from behind those eyelashes. There's something about his openness that is…No, I know now is not the time to think he looks beautiful.

"I'm dead scared," he tells me, like he feels so vulnerable.

I nod – I hope he sees it as supportive. "That'll be the drugs leaving your system."

"The drugs?!" He asks incredulously, "Yeah nowt but the drugs innit? Fuck's sake Brady, you act like you know sometimes and then-" and then he starts hitting the wall with both fists - pounding it and pounding it. And his words are no longer coherent because he's sobbing.

I'm with him in a moment. Stand with my front pressed into his back, grab his wrists away from the wall. I just hold him. And feel his entire body cave into mine.

"Sssh," I breathe.

He responds to me easily – you know, like a kid who's been picked up after a fall. He's so young.

We stand together for a while, the world's getting darker.

He's so skinny. I can feel everything he is against me, you know, all his ligaments and tendons. There's this big bit of tension running all the way down his back and I think about how he was sat on that warehouse floor, his head lolled and uncomfortable. I can't stop thinking about how long he was there, how long he would have been there if I hadn't found him…

He doesn't have the faintest idea what he's getting himself in for, with Foxy or with me. I can't work out how to keep him under protection whilst staying away. Lord knows I can't let him stay, but what would he go back to if I send him home?

I try to leave him be but he just clings onto me.

I swear to you that I'll think about these things in the morning but he needs me now.

"I can't – breathe," He tells me.

He starts to cough erratically, you know like he's choking. I stroke his back, I tell him it's alright, and keep telling him until I feel him relax.

"There's something I can do to help you relax, Steven, but you're gonna have to trust me, OK?"

His whole body tenses like he knows he shouldn't trust anyone, least of all me.

There was one thing Eileen always used to do if I'd had a hard day or the nightmares were back. It always worked and I think I got some good tips from her. It might work, and I'm running out of options.

"Do you think you can do that?"

With my head on his shoulder I feel him swallow hard and then he just nods once.

"Take your top off."

I feel the words coat between us. Even with my mind on what I meant the air suddenly gets clogged and I start to feel like I'm the one who can't breathe. His body goes all slack in my arms like he's just giving in. His spine remains ridged.

He turns around but stays pressed against me, and then his mouth is searching for mine.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't we kiss first?" He says with a tone like he's pleading, "and then I'll do proper anything."

"I'm not going to have sex with you Steven!"

His face blanches, his eyes widen like he's shocked. And then he blinks slow and heavy a couple of times – like he can relax now. Like he can breathe now that promise is between us.

Jesus! What sort of life has this lad had if the first thing he thinks of is sex? And even if he didn't want it he would just let himself go there, be used like that? What's happened to him? I get this urge in me to protect him, save him, although I still don't really know what's going on here, I know I will always keep him under my protection.

I press my fingers through his hair, trail his cheek bone with my thumb, trying to soothe these scars underneath. His hand folds into my own and he's smiling at me then, blue eyes clear and sparkling, like he trusts me. It's as if for the first time today he's feeling something other than despair and manic desperation.

Yet there is still that knot of tension in his spine.

"We could…" He tells me, his eyes speaking of low light promises, mutual desire. Like he wants this too. "You know, if you want..."

God how I 'want'.

"Maybe one day, but not tonight. I'm just going to help you relax. But you need to take off your clothes."

He looks down at himself, the way he fits in my t-shirt and trackies. God he's cute when he smiles like that.

"_Your_ clothes," he points out.

"OK take off my clothes," I laugh slightly.

He reaches up for the buttons of my shirt. I know, I _should_ have known he was going to do that. I trap his hands with my own, prevent his movements.

"Steven," I say, warning him.

And he almost - sighs. He looks up at my mouth and this smile turns his lips like he's thinking about consolation. He just looks at me for a while, a long while.

Then his eyes are on the floor as he steps back and starts stripping. I feel a puff of air leave my lungs - I hadn't bargained on the self-control this will take.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to give you a massage."

A few minutes later he's laying out on my sheepskin rug by the fire, dressed only in his black boxers. His entire body is open to me, his arms stretched above his head, his fingers flexing into the corners of the rug. My hands work the tension at the base of his back and his moans keep coming like a tune.

I've explored his back from the dip of his shoulder bones, to the base of his tail bone and he's purely relaxed now.

His body responds to every touch from my fingers, and I know that's less to do with Eileen's book and more to do with us. And I know I shouldn't let it go this far, but there's still a part of me that thinks this is purely innocent. The lies we tell ourselves are always the strongest.

He looks almost golden, you know, as the dim light highlights every shape. It's all I can do to keep my mind from every memory we've ever made. I start to feel like he's not the only one who's vulnerable right now.

I breathe long and steady as my hands go lower, right by the waistband of those shorts.

He flips his head around and gives me that smile, the one that speaks of sassy remarks and cheeky memories. I feel my heart rush, and run my fingers through his hair, turning him back around.

"Ssh," I order.

He huffs in amusement. And then there's a long slow whimper as I trace up his spine. And it's like that noise travels straight from his lips and right through me, tightens something within me.

I close my eyes and I feel him dipping and bending beneath me. His whole body moving. I open to investigate his movements and realise what he's doing.

Jesus.

His face, tilted towards the fire, shows a play of tension and desire.

"Steven!"

He's getting himself off on the roughness of the rug.

He opens an eye and sees me watching, flips around quickly. He looks down at himself - his hardness. Y'know invitingly, like he's all for me. And you have no idea how much I want him. But I can't take him when it'll just be a reaction to the drugs. His other men may not have minded what he thought about it, what they meant to him, but I only ever want to be his sharpest fantasy.

"I'm not going to have sex with you Steven," I remind him.

I know he's so strung out he won't even remember it in the morning.

"I thought you said you wanted to help."

"I do, I am, but not like this, you don't need help like this."

"You're always on about what I need, like you know what's best for me or sommit, well I'll show you what I need…" He says and he's lowering the waistband of those boxers and then he's right before me, the evidence of how much he wants me, how badly he wants my help.

He's so hard, harder than I've ever seen him and God he looks magnificent. But I know that's the drugs too. The intoxication makes everything just that little bit more sharp. This massage was the worst idea of my life. He's never going to get to sleep now.

He's so fucking beautiful. All I can think is he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and I know, OK, I know - I'm in far too deep. On instinct I reach out and touch him, run my thumb up the underside of his cock and he arches into me. As he does so his body shakes and he collapses down onto the rug. His eyes close and he laughs, manically, like he's still high.

I can't do this.

He knows the moment I'm stood up over him, his eyes open with a glare. He looks at me like I'm evil, he can't see that leaving is the right thing to do. He looks at me like I'm weak, but this is the strongest I've ever had to be.

I have no words for him as I turn on my heel.

"Brady, please?" He whines like walking away is the worst thing I could ever do, like he'd feel rejected forever. And I can't let that happen can I?

But I'm not about to take him when he can't ask for it. So my desperate mind latches to the only thing I can offer. No, honestly I don't know how this is going to make him feel when he's back with me in the morning, but it can't be as bad as rejection, or as confusing as sex.

"I'm not going to have sex with you Steven," and he closes his eyes and groans, "I have another idea though."

I sit down on the couch in front of him.

"If. You. Want," I put so much emphasis on those words because this has to be all about him. "I can watch, and get off too. If you want."

As soon as I've spoken his smile grows so wide like all he needed was to know I wasn't immune to him. All he needed were the promises that whenever I see him, or hear him, or touch him I will always feel. As if there's any other way.

He stares at me. His eyes shine as I pull down my zip. He bites his lip and nods quickly, that look that heats through me. I take myself up and over the top of my suit trousers, remember what he said before about my suits, and leave nothing but my cock exposed.

He takes off his boxers and sits entirely bare on my sheepskin rug.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks, his voice slow.

Fuck, "you want me to tell you?"

And he nods.

***S&B***

It lasts all of five minutes, for both of us. He's pulled so taut it's easy to push him into the abyss and as he comes, back arching, toes curling, face flushing, screaming, it's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. He is the most incredible thing.

We clean ourselves up. Then he lies back and just watches me.

"Thank you," he says eventually.

And that word feels precious, like there's an honesty he's found with me that he hasn't with anyone else. I know, I do have to ask him about his others, I have to find out what's happened to him, why he lets himself be used so readily, so nastily. I can't do that today though, not with the day he's had. I have one mission tonight - to keep the monsters at bay. Tonight is when I keep him protected.

As the day gets later there's this feint smile on his beautiful lips, they keep twitching to let out a small sigh. You know he just looks stunning.

He runs a hand up over his shoulder, and without thinking I realise I've done the same - touching myself in the same way. And there's not a breaths touch between us, but these movements we make feel like a hug.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

We both really appreciate the on-going support for this story – thank you so much to everyone and particularly the guest reviewers because we can't PM you so here's to you Julie/Stendanmad/Stu. Every single review really helps us keep to motivated, up our game, and adds to our enjoyment of writing it so so much!

But if you'd rather just follow/favourite that's awesome too and thank you so much – we're bowled over every time someone new follows! But we don't bite – that's Brendan's job! And if you feel like it we'd love to hear some words.

For those of you who are holding out for Ste's ultimate happiness – we are too! But it will be a while getting there, so this chapters at least a little happier to get us by!

**Chapter Warning:**

Obviously angst, smut and swearing – but all three a little less than in the previous chapters.

**Chapter five – Ste Hay.**

Everything's proper black innit – real dark, I can't see much. And then I can. I can see a lot, only it's nothing that what I want to see - it's Leah and Lucas scared; it's Mam that day I couldn't wake her up; and Terry after that; it's Terry with the baseball bat; it's the dude with the knife who'd paid me Mam fifty so he could teach me a real lesson.

"Steven."

And then it's him, it' Mr Brady and everything's alright cos he keeps telling me that innit? And I feel alright, like, when he's holding me. His arms look proper strong, like they could protect me from anything, only their changing around me, he's losin' those tatts and he's getting weaker and he looks proper old and it's not Mr Brady no more, it's Mr Fox and he's digging through into my skin and pillin' in loads of insects.

I scream.

I blink around the room and I don't remember how I got here – to Mr Brady's bed. I know that was a dream right? Don't know if I'm safe though. I don't feel proper safe.

"It's ok Steven, I've got you," Brady tells me and I feel oxygen enter my body quickly and my lungs start to work properly.

I breathe his name cos it feels like the only thing I can say and try to lift my head to see him but all my muscles are proper heavy and I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton wool.

I kick at the thing I'm covered in - I feel like it's suffocating me.

"Sssh, ssssh-ssssh, it's OK, you're safe I promise." He breathes, and he helps to take the duvet off me.

I still can't properly see him though.

"Come 'ere?" I ask and he moves so I can.

He stands awkward like, like not like him. And I guess it's cos he's worried you know that I've been lashing out.

So I just say, "hug?"

And he sits on the bed with me, wraps those arms around my waist and pulls my back against his chest. And I can breathe now, like this.

"Do you remember what happened?" He asks.

And it's like, with that question, he reminds me cos I can feel it then innit? The danger of before, the fight with those men and that drug. And I know he really did save me.

I nod, because I don't know if words could come out.

I feel his lips against my forehead and I remember different touches then, soft and slow and gentle and _him_. And I remember things from last night – his voice and his eyes and that feeling like I might burn forever but in a good way. I look up at him and all I can proper see is his stubble, you know on his chin leading up to his tash. I wanna touch him, know what it feels like. But I still can't move, not really, so I just look.

A little later he asks, "do you want for anything?"

All I want is him to hold me tighter innit? So I just press my fingers into his skin, feeling warmth and muscle and power. His arms pull me closer, his face is nuzzled into my neck.

"Are you hungry?" he asks and I am a little so I nod. "I'll go make us some food."

And as soon as he says that I'm scared. Proper terrified. Of him leaving, cos I'd be proper alone. Of Mr Fox and those guys getting to me, cos I don't know what they'd do. Of me Mam and Terry finding me, cos I do know exactly what they'd do – I know what I deserve.

I grip Mr Brady tighter and say, "No."

Cos it's just better when he's here innit? Like I don't do stupid things that need punishing.

"Please - don't go."

"You need to eat, Steven."

"I don't, I'm fine, I'm fine – just don't go anywhere."

"OK," he promises.

There's a glass of water and half a sandwich on the table next to the bed. I guess he was eating it before I woke up. He offers it me and it smells real good but I don't think I could move to pick it up so I just shake my head.

"Do you want it?" He asks.

And I nod, so he presses two fingers against my chin, gently but firm, till I'm looking at him. He breaks a small bit of the sandwich off and feeds it to me. And I should hate this shouldn't I? Cos I mean he's patronising me or something, but he's not really. As I swallow, it's like he's glad, like he wants to help and that's all he's doing – protecting me. He feeds me the entire sandwich and then holds the water up to my lips and I'm dying of thirst so I gulp it quick but it makes me cough and I splutter a little.

"Slowly," he corrects me.

He wipes at the water on my chin like it's no problem and proper normal to forget how to drink.

I sip slowly and he's just - _patient_.

And I know he won't leave me now. I'm protected.

***K&M****

I open me eyes to the sun proper streaming through a gap in the curtains. It takes a min for me eyes to adjust and then I realise where I am. I'm in 'is bed . I'm facing the window and can feel his strong arms round me. 'olding me tight. I shift a little and turn to face him. He's awake and looking at me. Proper intense like.

'is eyes are red though and he's got right dark circles under 'em.

"You look knackered, 'ave you slept at all?"

"Don't worry about me. I don't need sleep" he replies. "More importantly, how are you?"

"I've got a right headache and feel like I've done ten rounds in a boxin' ring. But ok."

"Just rest a bit longer."

I stay wrapped in 'is arms for a bit longer thinking about the last couple of days but then somethin' starts buggin' me.

"I was wondering, how did you know where to find me?"

He pauses a little and then says, "I overheard two idiots in the village near the club exchanging details about taking over drugging some kid that messed their boss over. Then I saw your bike and put two and two together."

And I smile at him then cos he keeps saying he's gonna protect me, and I guess he really means it.

***K&M***

We spend a day just bein' together. It's just me 'n' him. And although we're not naked and we don't kiss and we don't even proper touch it's just like we don't need nothing else but to sit together. And it's like what I dreamed of before – you know back in June, when I just wanted more than the time after school before the kids got back. It's like we matter.

We watch telly mostly. And he listens when I talk, y'know even when I'm just rambling, and no-one does that, not even Leah and Lucas. So it's just the perfect day.

I get my strength as the day gets later and I feel alright so when he's popped to the loo I get up and start cooking – spaghetti bolognaise.

I feel his eyes like on me and as I turn around he's propped up against the wall - his arm over the wall and his head to one side and he's sort of smiling at me.

"What are you doing, Steven?" He asks.

So I say, "ridin' my bike in Hawaii!"

And I make him laugh, you know like how I used to.

"It looks like you're cooking."

"Full marks."

He helps himself to a teaspoon of the sauce – greedy! I swipe him away. Although I kinda like that he closes his eyes like he thinks it's tasty.

"You couldn't even get out of bed two hours ago, maybe you should go sit down, I'll keep cookin."

"Like I wanna eat your cookin'!" I say which isn't proper fair cos I've never had his cookin have I? But the boys used to say it's not up to much. But I don't say it for that though, I say it more cos I wanna show him I'm stronger now and he can stop treatin' me like I'm not. "Anyway you're the old man innit? You go sit down!"

He laughs again, shakin' his head. He does that smile he used to when I was proper cheeky and he'd slap me on the arse - gentle like, unless I asked for it harder. And I see his fingers twitch like he's thinking 'bout the same thing. So I go proper up close to him and bend down and stretch as if the whole thing's to pick up the pan for the pasta and I hear that deep breath he always does when he checks me out.

When it's done we eat it at the kitchen table. I sit proper up close, so my knees brush his. He doesn't look like he's noticed though, he looks a little too obsessed with the food. And I watch him eat proper fast like he wants the whole thing in his mouth _right now_. And I laugh, cos I tell Leah and Lucas off when they eat like this.

"You like it?"

"It's really good, yeah. My boys said you could cook." He says and I feel myself get all shy over the compliment, like it means more than just nice words, or something.

Then he puts the fork down, twitches his lips and looks right into my eyes. I'm such an eejit that I don't have the first clue of what he's about to say.

"We need someone in our lives who can cook this well, Steven – did you ever think anymore bout my offer to be their nanny? It would be good for you."

And it proper winds me up don' it? That he thinks what would be good for me is just to turn my back on my family and come and live here with him so he can "look after me" as he put it in that pub. Like I can't look out for myself and like I don't have no-one else to look after either. I mean what would happen to Leah and Lucas if I did leave? Would they have to start doin' my other jobs? Would they start doin' _that_? And I could never go back home again, cos I'd betrayed them innit? And cos I can see exactly what Terry would think about me being a 'nanny'.

I get real angry so I shove the pasta back and say, "you don't have the faintest what's good for me, Brady."

And he stares at me for a good few moments, and then he looks sad that I'm angry, but I won't take it back.

Later, I feel his knees find mine under the table and he does this sort of smile and I get this rushing feeling like I'm at the edge of a cliff and about to fall real fast, and it might be scary and I might end up in flames -it's gonna be dead exciting though.

Next thing, I realise I'm smiling too, me.

***K&M****

He tells me he has to go out tonight, "a business dinner". I get real scared that he's saying I have to go home – not just cos of Terry and Mam but cos I don't want the twins to see me all weak. But he says it's OK, I don't have to go anywhere and I can wait here till he gets back.

"I'm going to keep you under my guard, Steven." He says and he seems to like saying things like that, and I get that feeling that I only get when I'm around him – like I'm special.

***K&M****

I really want a dip, my muscles feel tired and achey and I know Tony'd say the stretches would help. So I suggest we go and he digs out some shorts I fit in. I'm waitin for him in the pool when he gets down and he's wearin' these black swim shorts that are tight and his entire body is on display, obviously other than rude bits. And he just looks that way he always does, you know, masculine.

He steps slowly into the water and as his chest hair gets wet it goes darker and it makes his skin look paler. He's so fuckin' sexy.

He dips down - head right down in the water, and then flicks back and big water droplets are falling off his hair and off his tash and off his nose and there's strength in his arms and it makes him look powerful. So with not really thinkin' I splash him and he laughs again splashin' back hard. I swim away and splash him a little more and he chases me so I swim proper fast try'na show off I guess. But I run out of puff quicker than I thought. And my body gets proper tired and I'm at the deep end now but I don't think I can even tread water.

I feel my heart start to beat really fast but before I proper panic his arms are at my hips, and he's holdin' me. He sort of carries me back to the shallow end.

"I can swim proper good me," I say as he sits me down on the steps.

And he makes this noise like he don't believe me but I can can't I? So I tell him, "used to win competitions and all sorts!"

"OK."

"I did!"

"I said OK, I believe you, Steven!" He breathes like he honestly does.

And he comes across that it's not that he don't believe me, but that he's distracted. And I realise I don't remember the last time he wasn't looking at me. He's starin' like proper intense right? Right at my lips, and he gets that look he used to just before he kissed me. But he's still just sittin' there right? And he don't move closer but he don't look away neither.

I feel myself blush a little and I don't really think of the words before I say, "you look like you proper wanna kiss me."

And I watch him swallow hard but he doesn't stop starin'.

So I add, "you can if you want."

He blinks long and slow like he's proper tempted but he thinks better of it. And he shakes his head and looks away, he even looks a bit pissed.

"Was just sayin'!" I say defensively.

"Do you know how much I want that Steven?" He says and his voice is proper low, his accent proper strong like it was when I was getting' him off. I feel my cock stir as I _remember_.

"Why don't you then?"

I can feel us now, beating through me. So I feel strong. I trail my hand up through his hair, makin' him look at me, proper like. And when I get him to look at me again he's just starin' proper wide. I smile. I'm ready for this, I want you – I try to tell him.

He lifts his hand slowly to me. I stop breathin' proper as soon as his fingers touch my cheek. I'm so bloody turned on. His hand moves lower and his strong, rough, large thumb brushes against my bottom lip that way he does and I pant a little. He swims round so he's in front of me. He keeps lookin' from my eyes to my lips and back again. And it takes him forever to start to move and longer to get closer, but the moment he does kiss me it's like there was no build up. He takes me by surprise with the strength and the power and the roughness of it. And though it's obvious it's him, with the burn of his tash and the stretch of his lips and the tear of his teeth, I'm not sure he's ever kissed me like this before – like he needs to consume me.

He pushes me back against the step, leaning me proper far back so the steps above dig into my spine. And he just keeps kissin' me.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

You guys are also so awesome thank you all so much! We love how everyone appears so dedicated to this plot – hopefully you keep enjoying it cos as some of you have guessed the angst returns now…eeek!

Stu: There's a little bit of Walker in this – there's not a lot of him in the entire fic plan at the moment though…we'll try and include it if any of you guys like?

PatricaJessic: Yes the twins are definitely going to be much of a feature! They have an ever increasing presence :) We heart Leah and Lucas!

**Chapter Warnings:**

The return of the angst

A little smut – not a great deal but more than the last chapter

Bad language (as always!)

Chapter 6 – Brendan Brady 

I shouldn't have done this again, you know that and I know that. There is no way I should be kissing him again, especially when he's as weak as he is. Especially when I want him like I do. Especially when I haven't had the strength to ask him who he really is.

But he just kept tempting me. And he will never get this, that bein' with me isn't easy, that I will hurt him and that he needs to leave. Even if my house is safer than home, it's not safe.

But how can I remember that – when he just keeps tempting me.

All day he's been lying flat out on my bed, and he kept rolling over and stretching and moaning. Then he cooked something that was just better than anything I've ever put in my mouth, and sat with our legs touching under the table. Then his arc d' triumph was to suggest we had a swim! Like this whole day has just been about my seduction.

I found some trunks belonging to that bulky footballer Lynsey used to date. I'm certain I remember these trunks as being big on the footballer, but somehow, like a God is laughing at me, they look fucking tiny on Steven. And, if you remember, the first time I saw him properly was in this pool. I remember so clearly how he looked that night, naked in my pool, skin shining under the stars like he's some fucking Adonis.

I was doing a good job of not thinking about it though, till I had to carry him back here cos he had lost his breath. The moment my hand was around his waist it was like the only thing I could feel was last night and I don't even know if he remembers it properly but it was all I could think about. And that memory carried on it's back all the other kisses and touches we've ever had.

So when he pulls me up on the way I'm looking at him; and says I can kiss him if I want; and holds the back of my neck; how am I supposed to stop?

He keens from the moment I taste him and he keeps keening. It's such a fucking sexy noise, like he wants me to do this forever. So I'm going to have to take him, I don't care if he's not strong enough yet. From the way he's gripping my head he doesn't want me to stop either and I don't think there's anything that either of us can do. His legs widen on the step and I move in between him, the wet lycra of our swim shorts is an entirely inappropriate barrier for the hardness we both have. It feels like he's naked against me. He wraps his legs around my hips, and his foot presses against my spine as he gets closer. He severs our mouths, just our mouths, as his hands in my hair hold me close. And he grits his teeth like he's close, his eyes wide and so blatantly turned on. God.

"So I was thinking, I'd proper like it if you fucked me boss," he tells me, his breath so heated, "do you think you can do that?"

And there's nothing that heats my blood quite like that sass.

I grip his arse tighter, pull him closer towards me and make him keen again. I slide my thumb into his swim shorts, down the crack of his arse.

"Steven, Steven, Steven, you know I can." I tell him.

And his eyelashes have started doing that thing, you know lowering so I can barely see his eyes blown dark and I know he's as lost as me.

"Brady? You in here mate?" Shit! It's Walker.

He's come for the dinner, we agreed we were gonna have one for the road but not this early. If he sees Steven and I, you know like this, well this is going to totally give the game away. I trust Walker, he's the only one of them I'd consider a mate, but I also know he looks out for himself. He'd let Foxy know in a flash what he caught us doing get the upper hand. But even as my body's freezing in shock, Steven's dislodging himself from me.

He moves like I've trained him and there's no need for me to tell him what has to happen. Like he knows he's just a dirty little secret. God I'm such a bastard.

"Brendan Brady?"

Ste runs quickly into the steam room, turns to me as he walks inside, bites his lip and winks.

Walker stays and talks to me for a moment, thankfully its about little but footie and that girl he's been shagging, least I'm pretty sure it's a girl but she seems to be called Shawn. I refuse to get out the pool because, as I tell him, I haven't finished my lengths. But in reality it takes forever to lose the thrill Steven caused.

And all I can think about is how I wish he'd had stayed. How he will be stood on the other side of that door, smiling at these jokes Walker makes. And how that smile would make me happier if it was close and I could taste it.

***K&M***

At seven forty we get ready to leave.

I tell Walker I've forgotten my watch and go upstairs to make Steven promise not to answer the phone or open the door to anyone. He comes back with some smart arsed comment about being told that a hundred times before. But I need to keep him safe and he doesn't know the sort of monsters that come knocking at my door.

I kiss him before I leave him – he made me OK?! Yes, just by the way he was looking at me.

We arrive at the restaurant a little before eight. First one's here as usual. It's a quiet Italian with spaced out tables, dim lighting and the staff don't bother us. A place we can remain inconspicuous .

Eight on the dot our associates arrive. Well four of them. Just waiting for one more who's always 'delayed,' But the door swings open and in he walks ensuring everyone knows he's arrived.

"Brendan," he nods towards me first.

"Warren, nice of you to join us" I remain completely calm even though inside I am screaming. Screaming at him for hurting Steven. For hurting another person I lov…..I know. My fists clench and I feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

"So, I heard you found that rat-boy then. Let him go before he got what he deserved."

"Good babysitters are hard to find Warren."

He smirks "Well, just make sure he doesn't come near me or the club again. Oh and you owe me now. Again." he looks straight at me, as though he's looking straight through into my soul. Telling me without words there's another reason I am bound to him forever and I will never be able to get away.

Dinner is tedious, my mind drifts back to lunch time. Watching Steven cook. Sitting with him, talking. Watching. I love looking at the boy, brown hair, blue eyes, he's so ordinary but in this way that makes him extraordinary. I sit and look at these men round my table. All believing they are important, that they matter to the world. That what they do makes them seem hard, makes them more mobster. When in fact they are small time drug dealers and producers. Ok so a couple aren't so small time. I wonder what Steven would make of them, how long it would be before he has me laughing at their suits and their talk.

Foxy's in a good mood tonight, he will just flip out sometimes and be more like that man I used to know, the one I used to look up to. My first girlfriend's older brother.

We discuss how they are going to push various concoctions onto the street and which ways would make the most profit. Well they discuss - I nod here and there and give one word answers when I have to. I just wanna get back home. Huh – home - funny I've not thought that word in a while.

***K&M***

With business complete for tonight, we say our goodbyes and Warren decides he's coming back to mine for a night cap. I can't argue. I learnt a long time ago that I don't have certain options when it comes to him. I am obligated to be within reach when he chooses. Because of choices I have made.

We arrive at the house, still locked up. Still in one piece. I pray the same can be said for Steven. As soon as we are inside I tell Foxy to help himself to the whiskey. I excuse myself and bolt up the stairs to find him. He's laying on the bed watching a film, he smiles up at me as soon as I walk in.

"You alright?"

He nods, slowly. I can't get over how comfortable he looks in my bed, like he'd stay here forever.

"Right, listen I've got someone downstairs so I'm gonna be a while." He looks like he's disappointed about that and I wonder what would have happened if I came back alone. I'm still on that fucking thrill he gave me in the swimming pool.

I have company though, so you know he's got to stay in here.

Steven can't see Foxy – when he thinks what he thinks about me.

Foxy can't see him – when he knows what he knows about me.

"You alright to stay in here for a bit?"

"Course."

I nod and somehow tear my eyes away from him, but he calls me back as I get to the door.

"Missed you," he tells me sweetly this smile on his face. The one he knows just makes me want to kiss him.

"Steven."

"I'm just sayin', kept thinking about you," he's walking over to me now, "tonight in your empty house, alone in your big empty bed. And I realised I still needed to thank ya properly for you know, saving me." He looks up flirtatiously through those Bambi like eyelashes and steps forward. "And everything else."

I move away.

His hand comes out to cup the back of my neck.

"Stev.."

Before I can argue he leans up and kisses me, softly.

"It's OK," he tells me.

And those lips are always my wildest fantasy aren't they? I am about to give in and kiss back when I hear a little cough and realise we have a spectator.

Shit – Foxy!

I react without thinking, as I have always done. I push Steven backwards and look at him in disgust.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" I bark at him loudly

"Wha?..." he asks in confusion and reaches for my hand.

Before he can do so, and before he can say anything, I bring my clenched fist up and hit him. Punch him hard on the jaw, and again on the cheek – just below his eye. When he's got his balance, He looks at me with incredulity and an agonized look appears in his eyes. Like all the trust he had in me has evaporated.

I stand inert for a few seconds until the realisation of what I have just done hits me. I start to move towards him, not really thinking just needing to stop him looking at me like that – like I've broken his heart.

"So…." Foxy says unnecessarily loud, he doesn't like thinking that people have forgotten his presence. "Now I know why you were so desperate to find Rat Boy."

Steven stands drenched in fear. This is when he finds out that the protection I offered him was flawed, my guard over him was only ever temporary.

"Brady…why is Mr Fox here?" The realisation hits him like a bullet, his entire body seems to shake, "You _know_ him?!"

"You didn't know we know each other?" Foxy smirks at Steven, a dirty laugh. "Been keeping secrets from your _babysitter _have you Brendan? Well let me tell you Rat Boy, I more than know him, he's more than my business partner - he's like my little brother aren't you Brendan?"

As Foxy takes delight in explaining our association, he emphatically leaves out the parts he chooses- the parts that give me _no_ choice. All I can do is watch Steven, the distance between us growing.

Warrens still talking, "known each other twenty years now, haven't we old buddy old chum? Do _everything_ together, Brendan Brady and I well we're exactly the same."

Steven just stares at me like I'm a stranger. He's retreated far into the back corner and it's like his body is closing in on itself, he is so small and so young.

"I'll be a moment OK?" I tell him, hoping he can see how sorry I am.

Foxy laughs all the way down the stairs.

***K&M***

If I had any strength I'd kick Foxy out into the night, go and apologise to Steven and make him understand. If I had any say over my own actions.

To the outside world me and Foxy have a partnership, but no-one can see behind decade bolted doors.

"Well, well Brendan. Seems Rat Boy wasn't the only person you lied to," Foxy words are laced with a sincerity which sounds like a threat.

"He was the babysitter." I insist, "it just changed into something more."

Looking back now I don't even know how it did, one moment Steven was just a teenage lad looking after my kids, and then suddenly he was a man I needed to have in my bed again and again. Foxy used to say that I had a possessive disorder - any beautiful thing I saw I had to make mine. That was back when l let him know me though, back when I thought he saw me as his equal. Before I knew what he'd do to remind me how weak I really am.

"It's over anyway." I say, paint the lies I can only hope will save Steven, "has been for weeks but the kid just won't get over it. Guess he got a taste for the good lovin'."

I joke but the man doesn't even smile.

"It's over," I tell him again.

"Well you better make sure of that, I don't want any more of your vulnerabilities getting in the way of business," and although those words are dressed like goading hints I know it means I've done it – I've saved Steven from the clutches of Warren at least.

I leave the room and through the French door I stare at the man I used to know. Warren Fox is rotten to the core. Don't get me wrong - I'm not trying to say I'm guiltless, you know. I know I asked for the things we did. But the night I met Foxy was the night I was casted as Luther for a lifetime – he was the one who set my path.

Warren Fox is the one who changed everything.

***K&M***

"My bike," Steven says determinedly, as soon as I shut my bedroom door on us.

I can't even look at him.

"What?"

"I need you to get me my bike."

I told him I'd collect it for him tomorrow. We agreed that would be fine, before ten minutes ago – before I punched him. So now he's going to walk out and back into what? I still haven't had the strength to ask. I wish I could ask him to stay.

I turn to him and I see his eye popping – I did that. How could I hurt something so beautiful? Because it's who I am, it's what I do. I'm no better than them.

It looks awful, but that's not what he's angry about – what is it they say about sticks and stones? It's never quite true is it.

"You lied to me! You said I could trust you! All that stuff you said about finding me through those kids on the street – it were all a lie weren't it?"

He's pacing around the room, collecting his stuff together like he only has one thought – to get as far away from me as possible. He knows what's good for him now.

"Steven."

"Save it Brady, I know it all now, don' I? He said – he said you're just like him – so you hurt people like he does, you hurt people like me?"

"I don't an-" but how do I answer that question without telling him the one thing I never could?

"You know what it don't matter what you say now does it? Cos I can't proper believe another word."

And with that he turns and storms to the front door and out into the stormy October night.

***K&M****

Six days later I meet Steven after college, wait in the Lexus. I haven't seen him since the night Foxy caught us. He didn't answer his phone till I texted him about the bike. I still don't really know how to play this – we seem to be in stale mate.

As he appears around the corner he's talking to this blonde girl and a brown haired boy, who's wet looking – like a cheese soufflé. He doesn't look at me yet, although I can see that he knows I'm watching – it's in his smile.

But I've trained him haven't I?

He stands outside his school, hoody up, trainers scuffed, sharing what looks suspiciously like a joint with his teenage friends - and I'm just reminded by how young he is, what was I doing messing about in his life? Did I really think I could save him? Because I've done such a good job of saving myself, haven't I?!

He waits for his little friends to get on the college bus and smiles at me, tilts his head to indicate a spot for our rendezvous - just around the corner. I drive to meet him.

"Hi," he says as he climbs into the car.

He's got this big bright beam on his little face now, like seeing me has made his week. But his eye looks awful, time has turned it into a dark puce reminder of my weakness.

He leans forward to kiss me.

"What are you doing?"

He tutts his tongue, shakes his head like he's heard that before, and cups my face before he's coming closer again.

"Steven," I warn him, pressing his hand with my own.

"You said you wanted to meet up, I just thought-"

"I hit you, Steven," I say, running my thumb along the curve of the bruise above his eye, running down to the bump of his jaw. His perfect face damaged by my hand - why can't I say I'm sorry?

"Don't matter does it?" He whispers, leaning in again.

But it does doesn't it? I hit him and he can't just forgive me like this.

Eventually he just smiles at me, and shrugs cutely, "I was proper out of line." he says, "kissing you like that, I know you don't want no-one to know don' I? So I'm sorry Mr Brady. "

Jesus Christ! His words take my breath into one name – Vinnie. I made him feel like it was his fault, I made him apologise too, and then I beat him black and blue every time he came back to me. It wasn't anything to do with him, it was my Dad and Warren and most of all me. I thought I was over it, I thought Lysney had helped me to change, and I didn't ask for this apology, not this time. But it's exactly the same. Steven is just another boy just out of short trousers, who I've fucked too many times, apologising for my hatred and my wickedness.

"Let's just go back to yours," he's saying, his hands running up over my thighs. "Reckon we've got some catching up to do."

"No."

I say taking his hands away, they're so small between my own.

"What?"

"I bought you your bike, that's all." I breathe heavily, I'm still holding his hands but I can't do this. I drop him like his touch burns. "Get out."

"Don't be like that," he says, coming closer again, pressing a small soft kiss to my cheek.

And he's going to keep protesting, insisting and tempting, you know. He's going to keep saying we can be together, but there's no way I can let him. I just can't. I have to make him hate me. I have to save him.

"What did you think was gonna happen Steven? That we were gonna hold hands and go on a date to a gay bar? That we were gonna sit around the table with Dec and Paddy and I was going to introduce you as 'Daddy Steven'? That you would be my gay lover? You're a child Steven, and this was only ever over."

His eyes narrow until their black and he's looking at me like I'm the worst nightmare he's ever had, like he hates me with all of him.

Good.

"Fine!" He says, climbing out of my car with quick agitated movements. "You know what - this time there's no going back, you won't ever see me again, that's a promise."

But I can't just let him leave without knowing where he's going back to.

"Steven, are you going to be OK?"

"Like you care!"

"Steven, please?"

He looks at me like he doesn't know how to take me – and I guess I don't know how to understand myself, when protecting the things that are important to me involves keeping them as far away as possible.

"I'm gonna be proper fine Brady – never needed you in the first place."

He wasn't though was he? Three weeks later he was the worst I've ever seen him. When I found them huddled under that blanket, scared of everything and anything I knew I should have never dropped my guard. You don't ever drop your guard – the moment you do, you get hit.

My safety may be flawed but he always needs to be under my protection.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N:

As always a million thank you's to everyone who's favourited and followed and most of all to our awesome reviewers it's so lovely to know we're producing work that you like reading too!

We love how you're all discussing the plot and what might happen – and we like that you're interested in the Brendan/Warren dynamic :D Just for clarities sake – they're not brothers, Warren's sister was Brendan's first girlfriend.

As some of you have spotted we're having fun using direct quotes and cannon moments from the show – and this chapter has a lot – we even have a quote within a quote!

**Chapter Warning:**

This chapters very dark (and so purposefully limited in smut) it's angsty and has adult themes. It's also rather long.

There's reference to child abuse – we appreciate how cannon told this seriously and sensitively and wish to emulate that.

**Chapter 7 – Ste Hay**

"Still hungwee," Lucas moans, and slithers back into my right side. Yeah it's like slithering, his body is so tiny these days.

I stare at the quarter of the sandwich I saved for myself. Not eaten for days, me. Not since that Amy shared her chips with me, but don't really need to eat do I? And these guys, well they're eight aren't they? I pass it him and he stares at me wide with this look I've not seen, and it's kinda like bitter like selfishness. Good, he needs to learn how to be selfish – they both do.

It's gone in a flash that sandwich. My stomach cains.

Leah's shivering under my left arm, and I stand up to grab her jacket, dress her in it. Her lips are proper blue. Not sure how long we can keep staying here, not sure where else to go though, Tony's away, you know after being caught naked on the farm after being conned by that bit of skirt. Amy wanted to help but her family's a little fucked up too at the moment – her Dad's girlfriends been sleeping with her sister or something. We tried living with Rhys but his pitbull, Jackie, kept snarling at Leah and I don't reckon he's trained it that well. So finally we went to see Darren, you know that bloke I met on army camp those years back, but he said he was too busy helping his Dad with a dog or something – not sure which breed. Anyway don't need none of them. And this is close enough to the shops so that when I go on the rob I don't have to leave Leah and Lucas for too long. And at least it's got a roof, a dripping one true, but we've got a dry enough place here. And that fire I set up out of old newspaper is still burning.

Really need to work out how to wash their clothes soon, it's been about three weeks now right and I'm OK me, but these kids can't live like this.

"So the last person to tell me what innocent is spelt like has to sing the national anthem," I say, I have to kinda be their teacher now don't I? Cant take em to school cos that's where they'll get em and I think I'd be proper dumb if I'd missed out school.

They both start at the same time but Leah messes up that double N, which is good cos she's the one that likes singing.

"That the queens song?"

I nod and she smiles, starting. She really loves singing and she's got a beautiful voice, in another life I reckon she'd go to that X factor, you know when she's old enough and get dead famous. And be happy.

She's like nearly at the end but I hear something moving over by the other end of the warehouse, it sounds a little bigger than a rat. I stick my finger on my lips and she shuts up, it's another game I invented – they get these silly drawings I do on scrap if they shut up first. It moves into the light, the thing that's not a rat, and I can't see it that clearly but it's a man, a big hulky like six foot bloke. I give myself three seconds to be scared, you know like I saw in Lost that one time, before I turn it into another game.

"Sleeping tigers!" I say and Leah and Lucas kinda hide between me and the brick wall, really quiet and really still – like a sleeping tiger.

I grab for the grey woollen blanket, wrapping it around both of them and pull it over my head, I made some eye holes so I can see.

I pull a scary tiger face and they do it too, thinking this game might be fun.

"Who's there?" It's an Irish accent, it seems proper familiar.

Leah's trembling next to me, I fluff her hair tryna pretend this is all alright, that we're safe now. And whatever happens we are safer than we would be back there.

"Come out, come out wherever you are." Someone sings and I definitely remember that voice, it's that Housten bloke - one of the ones who drugged me.

I bite on my bottom lip to stop the panic.

"There's someone over there boss," He says, and then I hear the unmistakeable drag of metal over concrete, I see a piping come closer. "Shall I brain em?"

"No wait that's more than one person." The boss answers and I know that voice now, I know it's him.

But he can't see me like this – I said I was gonna be fine without him didn't I? And if he takes me back to his house I'll get that feeling again you know like falling fast off a cliff and that'll be more dangerous than trying my luck against his brute. I flick my knife open in my pocket.

The blanket is pulled away from us and I stand up to fight.

"Steven," Brady breathes like it's an impulse.

I run at Housten with the knife in my hand, I'm not sure if I can take him, he's a pretty big bloke and not eating means I'm pretty weak but protecting my little bro and sis, keeping 'em safe - there's nothing without that right?

"Daniel, step back," Brady issues the command and Housten bares his teeth clearly up for a fight but does as he's told – another one of Brady's pets then.

So I turn the knife on him, on Brendan Brady. I'm proper in the mood for a good fight.

"Put the knife down," he says and his voice is dead calm like he's not scared of the knife. But I guess he's had a load of anger at him - life like his. Housten's by his side eager to go but Brendan's keeping him back. "You're not gonna stab me Steven."

And then it drops to the floor, the knife right, I didn't really let it go it's more like my body just does what he tells it. And then I can't see owt anymore, and I'm pretty sure I just fell down too.

***K&M***

The next few hours are just flashes of colour. I can't see a lot, but what I do seems really vivid – there's a lot of him - of Brady, and of them - Leah and Lucas. There's one moment they look proper scared and I try to reach out for them but it's like someone's filled my arms with led or something – I can't move. But then it's OK cos Brady's giving them a hug, like a proper hug, one under each arm, and they're smiling then, and Leah even laughs.

He lifts me up then, gives me those old promises about it being OK, and that he's got me - I used to proper believe it when he said things like that. After the car journey. He carries me to his bed again, and tucks me beneath the covers.

The next time I see the twins, they got these teddies, Leah has this white bear wearing a tiara and she looks real happy. She kisses me on the head and tells me she's gonna go have fun. I don't have the strength to open my eyes properly but it's alright innit? Cos we're safe now. So I sleep.

Brady's sitting on the bed next to me when I come to – that intense look in his eyes like he had the last time I woke up here – like he's been watching me or sommit.

"Hey," he breathes deep.

"Where are the kids?"

"Watching a movie with fish and chips, they're OK, a little shaken up, but that's - to be expected… I guess?" He says like he's proper confused. "How long were you guys out there Steven?"

He says and I get it in me to be angry, why the fuck should I tell him anything? But then he's looking at me like he's worried, proper worried, and like he cares or something. And I don't have the energy to fight him so I tell the truth, well something like the truth anyway, not the exact truth cos it's not his problem is it?

"I'm not sure, not more than a week, or two…"

He breathes like he's sucking in air.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would you have done?!" I say, laughing silently – there's nothing no-one could have done. "Anyway, we're over right?!"

I said it to try to remind him it's not his problem. But he looks proper sad for a moment.

"I'm never gonna stop wanting to protect you Steven, you hear me?"

And I almost say I'm not his to protect, almost, but then his finger is trailing over my cheek in that way he does, that way he does and no-one else ever has, like I'm good and pure and like…like he loves me.

But I can't deal with this right now, he makes me feel so confused. Like I can't see straight when I'm with him, but I can't see nothing when I'm not. Like I don't know whether to hit him or kiss him.

And I barely have enough energy to think.

So I say, "Tired, me."

And he nods, "OK I'll go check on the twins, let you get some sleep."

And then he's turning his back on me and I'm gonna be alone again and I can't, I can't take it – I can't.

I cry. Not just for now and the shelter that didn't work and Leah and Lucas. But for the tears I would have cried when Terry first made me do it, if I hadn't been so numb; and the tears I would have cried when I first told my Mam, if I hadn't felt so stupid and selfish; and the tears I would have cried when I was with that bloke with the knife – if I hadn't been so scared. I cry them all, and I think I will possibly cry for the rest of my life and I honestly don't know how to stop. But he's over with me, he lies down next to me, and pulls me to him, lets me burry my head into his shirt, and strokes my back and I feel…

I feel safe.

"I'm never gonna stop protecting you, Steven, I promise."

***K&M***

I caught sleep in his arms. And I slept like I haven't slept in ages, and I guess I haven't not properly.

I had proper good dreams of when things used to be OK. Dreamed mostly of that holiday, you know when I was 13 and the twins were 4, and Mam was off the booze. We went to the beach all the time and we built sandcastles and we ate ice cream, a helluva lot of icecream – Lucas used to be a proper podgy little kid! And every night me and mam used to read them Three Little Pigs, and they smiled every day.

That was the time Terry was out of our lives. Mam promised he wouldn't come back but then he did and made me start the job.

It was real good that holiday. It's odd cos I get this feeling like I'm back there. And when I wake up I don't proper know where I am for a moment.

It's Brady's scent that gets me first. I feel memories of I dunno like long warm hugs and everything's OK for a minute. Until I remember why I'm here. I run down the stairs and Brady's sat at the kitchen table.

"Where are the twins?"

"Asleep in the room there," he smiles at me.

I look in the room he's pointed at and there's two small beds with my two small kids. Leah's bed is all pink and her headboard all fluffy, and Lucas' duvet has cars on it. There's this nightlight of a sea that goes round and round and their both smiling in sleep. It looks like they have proper normal lives. I know they've not, and I know this won't last – Brady's only being nice, cos I fainted innit? But I let myself think that for once they can be the prince and princess they are.

"Spark out after three little pigs," he tells me.

"Leah's favourite that."

"Yeah – she said. They're good kids," he says and it sounds a little like he's congratulating me, like he's proud of me or something.

I look at him then, it's funny cos I didn't know he wore glasses even after all the time we spent together. And he looks kinda cute in them – these proper black big rimmed things. He's reading a newspaper, you know a proper newspaper and I'm not sure I actually know anyone who does that. He looks like he could take care of us.

"Come sit down, there's pizza in the oven." He tells me, and I forgot for a moment how starving I was. "Coffee?"

"Got anything stronger?"

And he sighs cos he hates it when I drink don't he? Refused to put out once just cos he knew I'd been drinking. But then he breathes deeply as his eyes look all over me, and it's like he knows, cos he gets me a glass for the whiskey.

"Just this once," he tells me.

He gets the pizza out and it's pepperoni, and there's this smile on his face - one that he's like trying to hide – like he remembers this pizza's my favourite.

***K&M***

I eat the entire pizza and two big tubs of Ben and Jerry's. I feel dead greedy but he just kept telling me to eat, and I'm proper full now.

"So run away?" He asks eventually.

I nod and shrug, cos that's obvious innit?

"You're gonna have to give me a bit more to go on here Steven," he sighs like I'm stressin' him out, "Are you in trouble?"

But I don't wanna tell him too much do I? He don't need to know all that. So I just say, "Only if they find us."

And he closes his eyes, his head dipping for a bit as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose.

"OK," he says eventually. "Well you're safe here. All of you's. My sister took the boys to Dublin for a week, left this morning, so you can stay, you know as long as you like."

And he looks like he means it and like he don't want nothing in return. And I feel proper dumb then cos all I can say is, "thanks."

***K&M***

We moved to the lounge, he put on the telly – Jeremy Kyle. Which is dead cool of him cos he hates it but knows I like it.

The conversations been easy, proper normal and then it's not cos he bought up footie and I mentioned I'd missed the big game, and now he's just looking at me like I'm gonna talk to him and I have to don' I? Not because of tonight and how he's been with the telly and the pizza and the whiskey. Or because I owe him for looking after Leah and Lucas and reading to them, and giving Leah that toy. But because I wanna tell him, cos the things he knows just feel better don't they? Because he changes everything and makes it OK again.

"They couldn't stay," I say thinking of Leah and Lucas, and my voice and my hands are kinda shaking cos I've not proper thought about this before – just really spent this last month doing what I had to to keep 'em safe like.

I pick up the whiskey glass and hold it out to him and he fills it, but rolls his eyes.

I talk some more then. "They said they wanted to have them, Leah and Lucas, they said they were gonna use them too, the way they use me. To get those same kicks. But they're 8, Brady. Eight years old, they're too young. They're too fucking young."

His entire face goes proper white, like ghost white and now his hands are shaking.

"Steven, are you - are you talking about sex?"

But it's not sex is it, not proper sex. Cos sex is what I had with him… past tense? I'm not sure. Sex is exciting and fun, and you feel good after and kinda powerful and - _liked_. So what those people do isn't sex is it? Sex don't make you feel dirty and like there's something in you that's always going to be disgusting and revolting. It don't make you feel like you deserve to be used.

"It's not sex…" I tell him, and he seems to know what I mean, his eyes are proper dark now. "I said they could do whatever they want to me y'know instead. I mean not a lot more they could do to me now, I've even had the knife innit? But dunno guess they think I'm too old now I can ask for it or sommit."

"You never should have said that, Steven." He speaks like he's angry, that he thinks I'm weak.

But this thing I do - this job I do that's not sex - I'm not weak for doing it am I? Not for the reasons I do it.

"Ah you proper don't get it do you? What it's like to be one of us, we had the landlords knocking and the baliffs knocking and the dealers knocking and they all needed money and we didn't have none so had to innit? It was their suggestion, Mum said. It was the only way."

"Steven, listen to me, that is never the only way." His words are quiet and come through his gritted teeth so they sound like hard.

"Maybe in your world, I was 14 anyway right, so it's not like I was proper young. It felt good at first, you know like I was doing something for the family, being the man Dad said I had to be before he left."

I do this job for my family, me. I do it to make things better and easier and keep 'em all safe and happy. I'd always do anything for that. I look at Brady in his sharp suit, in his proper massive house, in his good life – he's never gonna get that is he?

"See it's all different in your world, you're the guys with the power, you won't get it."

"You lie in bed at night listening to the footsteps, working out who it is?" He asks really quietly, I nod.

"And when you hear your door close your room's suddenly smaller, like your walls are closing in?"

Yeah, I guess he must have read this in a newspaper or sommit.

"And when it's happening you think about school, do maths, recite French, anything to stop you from thinking what's actually happening?"

Yeah, it's proper odd these things he's saying – like he knows, I forgot that way he looked at me on our first night.

"And you think at least if it's me it's not them, least I can keep them safe."

Yeah. My skin feels all cold and clammy all of a sudden.

"And when it's over they pat you on the head, tell you you've been a good boy and you lie all night thinking about it, feeling dirty like you're never gonna be clean again?"

Yeah.

"I was 8 too." He says dead quiet now, and it's like silence is an object – I'm not sure I can see past it. "I was 8, he was my father, my biological father."

Jesus it happened to him? To Brendan Brady?

"Every night, and I thought at least if he's doing it to me it means he's not doing it to my sister. Cos you see he said there was no other way either."

But he's so strong, he's so powerful, I guess you can never see beneath the surface.

"But there is always another way Steven!" He says and although his eyes are dark and he looks small, he still looks strong, like he can protect me. "It went on till I was 15, almost 16, old enough and big enough to fight back you would have thought. But it's never that easy is it?"

I'm not sure I can say anything. And I feel guilty for not knowing, cos of all the things we've done together. All the perfect _sex_ we've had. I always thought he knew about me.

"How did I not know?"

"Because I'm rich and I have a good house and my children have a good school and a good life, and your problems are shelter and food and clothing and I have a simple solution to those. Because it's easier to think that it's not happening and it wouldn't happen to people you know than it has and it does. Because you are a good man, Steven Hay."

He says and he makes me feel like I could be.

"And most importantly," he breathes sadly, his eyes stare at the floor. "Because I never wanted a single soul to ever know again."

He looks so alone, like not the man I know. Like he's weak and vulnerable. Like this is a part he's hiding and he wants to hide. And that's what this is all about - the big house, and sharp suits and flash cars and fancy lifestyle, like they're shields. Cos here the monsters don't get him here, until I arrive, like this, and bring the darkness back. And that's what I've done tonight and that's why he's looking as small as he is.

But his eyes are finding me now, he's looking at me and it's like he likes it. Cos he don't really smile, but his eyes aren't quite as dark.

And he told me didn't he? He told me so he wanted me to know, and he looks like he's happy he told me – like there's closure there. I notice that our fingers are playing on the couch, his fingertips gently trailing over my own, and I sit closer to him, moving our hands together. And as my hand properly finds his I think maybe I'm not so alone anymore. Maybe neither of us are.

"I used to think I was Superman when I was a kid." He breathes, "I used to think that anything was possible. I used to run around with a cape on imagining I was saving the world."

He's kinda distant, talkin' but not really directing it at me. More like he's extracting a memory.

"Then I realised that no-one was coming to save me. But then…." he trails off.

He shakes 'is head like he's removing the thought and turns to talk to me again.

"Something happened a while back and I thought it was over. I thought that was the end of it. But it can mould you as a person and shape your entire life unless you…"

He's gone again, you can tell in his eyes – he just sort of fades out and there's memories that take him away from me.

"Unless you do something. But it was too late for me. So I've become this _monster_. I'm a terrible dad, I can't give my boys what they deserve…. the truth's never exactly been my strong point. I've done a lot of bad things I can never tell you about….things that if you knew….but I don't tell you cos I wanna protect you and that's the way it's always been. Since that first night."

"Brady, stop" I place my hand on 'is, trying to get him back here with me. "That bit about not bein' a good dad – it aint true. You are a proper good dad. They just wanna spend more time with you."

"Do you not think I want to? I do try, Steven, But then memories take over. You know there was this one afternoon, Declan was playing football with his mates and he scored this crackin' goal, and I wanted to cheer so loud. He looked at me like he wanted me to cheer. But it just reminded me. Memories - they work the way to the front of my brain," he says tapping his finger on 'is forehead. "And sometimes it's all I can think about. I damage everything around me so that's why I can't do relationships – I can't, I can't love, Steven."

He says that but even when he does he pulls me into his arm and these touches, well they feel like love don't they? They feel like they're closer to love than I've ever been.

So I say, "you proper don't know how good you are," and that makes him smile at least.

***K&M***

We sit together, with his arm around me, and I fit in his side. We're silent but not awkward, just like comfortable. The world seems to get a little brighter, not just cos it's almost morning. I hear soft snoring and realise he's fallen asleep. So I go take a shower, and find some more of his clothes that fit – walk around in a pair of boxers and a grey V, which kinda swamp me but feel good. When I go back into the lounge, he's awake and his heads in his arms, like he's hiding again. He don't notice me. I walk slowly up behind him and cup his shoulders, massage the tension cos there's so much. He breathes my name like I make him happy.

"Let's go to bed," I say. "To sleep."

"I don't sleep."

"What do you mean you don't sleep?!"

"I can't, never have been able to when, you know when I've talked about it."

But that's not exactly true is it, cos he fell asleep on the sofa when I was here. So I say, "I don't care right, you're coming to bed with me."

I walk away slowly and he's smiling at me, like he's amused or sommit. So I turn back to wink at him and tease, "even if you just sit and watch me, cos you like that don' you?"

***K&M***

He wears these stripey trousers in bed, and nothing on his top. He climbs in next to me, and I get real close, thread my fingers through that chest hair cos I like that. And he lets me – like he likes it too.

"Steven," he says like he's worried, his chin rested on the top of my head, "Where do the twins think they are? Do they kno-"

"No, no I couldn't y'know like I couldn't let em know. Picked 'em up from school and said we were going on an adventure. They only asked for Mam once, when it was really cold in the shelter so I think they're OK." No, I know they're proper not. "I don't know what to do."

"It's OK we'll work it out together," he promises me, places a kiss against my head.

There's silence for a little bit then I speak again.

"You know I was thinking, it's different for us innit, cos it's your Dad and you couldn't control it, but for me right I had, I have a choice."

He breathes like he can't believe I said that and his voice comes like proper disbelieving, "you chose to end up here? you chose to be homeless, to give up your college, to be scared out of your mind?"

And I can feel his words like punch at the pain - at my failure. I turn on my side, cos I don't want him to see my cry. But he wraps his arm around me and pulls me back into his chest – and there's rest here.

"No Steven you didn't choose this," he whispers like he understands why I do it, like I'm not weak. "And you're worth so much more than this…"

I swallow at the lump that's formed in my throat but I can't quite move it. He presses a kiss to my back and he's always helped me breathe.

"No more tears tonight," he says, "you're gonna sleep now."

He leans over and presses a kiss against my lips, and I feel like I'm coming back to safety and protection. Like his kiss is what will make things good. So I turn around, trail my hand through his hair and make the kiss longer. I move my leg to wrap around his hip, but he shifts away, like awkwardly, forces me back.

"Steven," he resists.

I move my hand to him, to the waist band of his trousers - why can't he see I need him?

"No!" He insists, trapping my wrist. "Look we'll talk about it in the morning," he says, "when we can see straight and it's not about what happened in the past but what could…" He stops his words like he don't proper wanna say that. He licks at his lips like he's searching for the words. "When it's about us."

And there's something in the way he says that word – like it means more than when I've heard it before.

"Us?"

He smiles like that question makes him happy.

"Yes us, you and me, and…" he takes my hand in his own, and I get that feeling like it's more than just a touch. "And this," it's like he thinks it is too. "Go to sleep now."

And he kisses me one last time, and leaves our hands against the pillow, and we sleep together. Just sleep together. And it's like it's important – like it means more than sex, even our magical sex. It's like it's our safety.

I'm under his protection.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

As always a big thank you to everyone who has read, favourited and followed but most of all a big thanks you to everyone who takes the time to review, It means a lot and it's always good to get feedback.

We are both so glad you were happy with the way we told the sensitive issues in chapter 7. The darkness is not nearly over, but there's time for some light(er) stuff :)

There is only one chapter for this week cos we both have rather crazy RL's at the moment and Mercurial's off to Ibiza!

**Chapter Warning:**

A large helping of smut.

And a flavouring of angst.

Chapter Eight – Brendan Brady

I open my eyes to the sun creeping round the curtains. I feel Steven before I see him - the slow rise and fall of his chest against mine. The gentle flow of air from those slightly parted bee stung lips. My chin rests on the top of his head. I inhale and breathe the boy in. Breathe him all in. Not just his scent but his courage, his bloody determination and his unconditional superintendence of those kids.

It's only as I study him with pride that I realise I must have slept. Not only that but it was a peaceful sleep, free from the usual nightmares and anguish. It suddenly makes me feel vulnerable. The thought that I could possibly rely on Steven. I don't do vulnerability - Don't depend too much on anyone in this world because even your shadow leaves you when you're in darkness.

My thoughts go back to the previous night and all its revelations. So much was said, so much bloody soul bearing. Should I have known about him? I'm not sure. There were signs, like his desire for that pain that was just a little too much, his knowledge of others but not of himself. Those signs were so easily dismissed and why? Because I am the man I am? Maybe. The first few times I even blamed it on him, he seduced me, knowing my rep., obviously he could get himself involved in all sorts of trouble without a second thought. But that day he sought sanctuary in my house, and I held him under my guard, I knew something then didn't I? When he forced himself on me I knew that something wasn't right – and I just ignored it, kissed him, almost fucked him, hit him…

He shifts up into me, he looks comforted in dreams like I'm his knight in shining armour and I know I would do anything to protect this boy.

But it's more than that – it's more than just protection. It's my own confessions, my own fears. That habitual knot inside my stomach is still constricting with the rawness of what I told him. I didn't expect to be confessing to the boy. Didn't want him to know, to be tainted by my past in any way. But as I looked into those eyes I could almost see his soul - the numbness, the shame, the guilt… and the detachment and all of it was mirrored in my own eyes, in my own soul.

But there's also his survival instinct. The power he extracted from deep within to bloody well fight and surmount his past. He would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect those kids, but he can't see his own pain, or that his own pain could matter.

I stroke my hand across his face, he is one of the most incredible boys I've ever met….men I've ever met and he doesn't know that he matters.

We have to talk to today - we need to work out what we can do being the people we are when we need the things we need. We need to work out what's going to happen at the end of this week – where they'll all be for Christmas, who can keep them safe. There's so much we still need to talk about.

But not now. Now he rests.

***K&M***

I check in on Leah and Lucas. They are cuddled up in one of the beds reading a book and giggling.

"Please can you read to us, Mr hairy man?" Leah asks thrusting The Three Little Pigs at me

"Hairy man, that me?"

She smiles and nods.

"I think I got time for one story ," I climb in and sit between them.

"Little Pig, Little Pig, let me in," I say in my deepest Irish accent.

"Don't stop!" she squeals as I'm turning the page

"No, no, no, no, no! Not by the hairs on my chiny chiny chin!" I reply in high pitched squeaky voice I'm glad Steven isn't here to witness.

When I reach the end for the third time she wriggles next to me.

"Again, Again!"

"I've read it like a hundred times already!"

"Come on! Again!"

"Ok, ok!" I hold up my hands in defeat.

***K&M****

I let Steven sleep, God knows he needs it. I get the kids up and make them breakfast. Pancakes. They ask for pancakes. My feeble attempt keeps them in a constant fit of giggles as I am unable to catch most of them in the pan after my valiant tossing efforts. I find myself smiling back at them. Here, I feel… _normal_.

I sit with the kids and watch a bit of telly, Leah has chosen one of Dec's old DVD's. Some film about a young lion running away after being convinced by his uncle that he killed his dad. One day he is shown by his love that he wasn't to blame, that he had been manipulated to believe he was responsible. He returned to lead his pride and found true happiness. Chez has this theory that Disney teaches kids a lot about real life... apparently.

I leave the kids playing. I grab a tea towel and start to dry up. God, I miss having a nanny!

My thoughts again wander to the boy sleeping in my bed. I haven't had anyone sleeping in my bed for so long – and it feels right. I try to make some sense of how I feel about him. What I feel for him. It felt good, even somewhat liberating to be able to confide in him. To be able to trust another being. I haven't been able to trust anyone since, well Eileen. And to some extent Lynsey.

But he's 16. 16! And I'm no good for him. He needs something more than I can give him. Something more than me.

"Mornin'." my thoughts are interrupted.

I turn round and Steven's there smiling, A shy kind of smile. He's wearing my favourite navy hoodie.

"Afternoon," I smile, nodding towards the clock. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, ta, where are the twins?"

"Watching TV. I couldn't handle another round of 'Three Little Pigs'"

He smiles at me before it turns solemn and he gets this look like he's not in this room.

"I used to 'ave to read it 'em every night cos me Mam wouldn't. Said I was stupid cos of me dyslexia an' that. And it was about my limit…." He trails off.

He looks at me accusingly "Don't think I'm stupid, right."

"I don't think you're stupid, Steven."

How can he think he's stupid? I guess a lifetime of people telling him he is would do that. You get told something enough times it becomes true. In your mind, anyway. But Steven is far from stupid - he's at college and can speak bloody good French for god's sake. I need to keep reminding him how clever he really is.

He seems to study my face for a moment, searching for some sign that I don't mean what I say, He doesn't find it and his look turns warmer. He steps forwards and gently brushes his fingers over mine. Lightly, as if testing my reaction.

I work on impulse – it's the only thing I have around him.

I lean forward and gently brush my lips over his. He responds by pressing his lips back onto my mine. It's the lightest of kisses but it seems to say a million words. I lean back slightly, gently sweep the hair off his forehead and out of his eyes.

"We still need to talk, Steven," I say as gently as possible. "We need to talk about wha-"

"Ste!" Leah and Lucas bound in and throw themselves at him. He envelopes them in a big cuddle.

"Hey you two! How are yous, did ya both sleep alright?"

"Yes!" they say in unison "We slept in a bed, and when we woke up the hairy man read Little Piggies, and then he made us pancakes, and then he let us watch The Lion King on the big telly!"

It all comes out in a big excited rush whilst bouncing up and down.

"The hairy man?" he looks questioningly at me and I point to my moustache.

"Oh" he mouths.

"And ere's me thinking I'd be coming down to a zoo!" he smiles at them.

"Oi, what do ye mean by that?" I ask all offended.

"Well, looking after two kids by yaself, no nanny to clean up after ya. I'm surprised it don't look like feeding time at the zoo," he says with this great big goofy grin on his face.

"You cheeky fecker!" I twirl the tea towel I'm holding round and whip him with it, hard, on the arse.

"Oww!" he yelps still smiling and wanders off with the kids.

But at the door he turns around, winks at me and shakes that bloody perfect arse.

***K&M***

Steven has a coffee and plays with the kids. I stand in the doorway watching them. He looks up at me every so often. Sometimes it's kinda apologetic, like he's saying sorry for something he doesn't need to be sorry about. I think it's because we need to talk. Sometimes though, he has this look. It's a kind of longing. Like he wants to reach out and just be close. His eyes seem to be drawing me in and I can't bring myself to look away, to think about anything other than the normality of it all.

He manages to slip away, leaving the kids playing. Jesus, to look at them you wouldn't know what they had been through. Kids can be so resilient. Yet other times, it taints - leaves an everlasting mark not visible on the outside but torturing on the inside. Once you have been tortured, you can never belong in this world. There is no place that can ever be your home.

As we walk to the kitchen in silence it's like a million fucking thoughts hang between us but neither knows where to start.

"Steven, I -" He puts a single finger to my lips.

I feel so bloody exposed right now, like my soul is accessible to him from a single look or touch.

"Thank you" he whispers. "Thank you for listening, right, and for all this," he motions around the room.

"We need to sort out what happens now, Steven"

"What do ya mean what 'appens?"

"Ste!" The kids skip into the kitchen. Stopping me before I try and explain. " What can we do now?"

"Listen guys, me and Brady need to 'ave a chat yeah?"

"No! Not now! Later!" Leah crosses her arms in defiance.

Steven sighs and gives in. "Ok but you have to let us talk later, yeah?"

Leah thinks for a moment. "One condition," she smiles.

***K&M******

Leah's 'one condition' is we bake a cake. And by 'we' I mean all of us. I have to bake a fucking cake. Steven finds an old recipe book of Eileen's. He chucks me over an apron.

"No chance!" I throw it back at him.

"Come on Brady," he whines, in a kind of bloody adorable way. And it irritates the hell out of me that it's adorable.

I put the apron on and attempt to be of some kind of help to this….to whatever the fuck this is. Most of the time I just stand back passing an egg or a spoon when they ask for it. Steven chatters non bloody the stop the whole time. On and on and on. About nothing. But is doesn't vex me. Its kinda reassuring or something. And it lets my mind wander. But it finds itself wandering back to Cheryl's birthday party. There was cake. I remember the cake. I had cake. The day...when it happened. I feel my body inwardly contort in torment at the memory.

"Brady? You alright?" Steven snaps me back from the recollection.

I shake my head and it cocks to the side slightly and I give him a small smile, diverting eye contact to and from him. He stops and seems to understand.

"Come on kids, let's get this done and in the oven."

He keeps chattering on and I think it's his way of distracting me. I smile to myself.

"Do you want me to stop, to shut up?" He asks noticing my smirk.

"No, don't stop, it calms me," I quickly say before I can put my brain in gear.

His face broadens into a big goofy grin but he doesn't say anything. I clear my throat and ask if they need any more eggs.

It smells pretty good when Steven takes it out the oven. I try to grab a slice straight away, but he tuts and bats my hand away and says it needs to cool and then be decorated. Christ, he can be so bossy.

We all sit down and Steven cuts the cake like it's some delicate fucking masterpiece. I tap my foot with impatience. He smirks and gives the kids their slices first. I finally get to take a massive bite of mine and it's actually really good! I nod my approval at the kids and Leah grins back with a face covered in cake crumbs and pink icing.

***K&M***

Steven takes the kids to bed. I figure they need some time just the three of them so I go for a swim. It's only there that I can stop and think – it's been a crazy twenty four hours – with all the talk last night, and the lack of it today. I forgot how tiring two small children could be. I'm not sure I have the energy to talk tonight not when I still haven't worked out what I could do, and what they can do. I know I'm on a deadline – my boys will be back in five days and I need to make The Hays safe by then, but my mind is spinning and I can't think about it now. Anyway, Rome wasn't built in a day.

I only manage eighty lengths, bloody knackered. So I sit in the steam room for a bit. I sit with my eyes closed as I enjoy the feel of the heat on my body. It's always relaxed me – feeling that comforting burn.

Hard to find a lot of things relaxing, when you've had the life I've had. But actually these past few days have been full of surprises. I slept after revisiting those memories – I've never done that before, and I know that has a lot to do with Steven. Things just feel simpler around him. I know they're not and I'm not fooling myself with thoughts of future or…

But you know you get those people that just make the world beautiful? Like just their presence in your life can make things easier. That's Steven Hay right there. When he grows up he is going to break so many hearts, that lad.

Even with all he's been through he is one of the best people I've ever met. He's self-sacrificing, self-deprecating, kind and considerate. He's fucking beautiful, with those bee stung lips and eyes that just see everything…and that arse! And he's a thrill you know in bed, we were pretty good together - of course I haven't forgotten that.

A small cough tears me away from my thoughts and I open my eyes quickly.

"Fuck!" I impulse.

It's Steven, not just Steven, but Steven entirely naked. His body just exposed for my gaze. His cock is awakening as he looks at me. Jesus he is so incredible. He cocks his head to the side, biting his lip.

"So I was thinking," he says his voice extra slow, "the way I see it we don't really need to talk, and I still need to thank you, for what you did last month and for now obviously. Double thank you I guess. So… how do you want me to do that?" He asks, sassily, holding up his hands displaying condom and lube.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

I close my eyes, wipe my hand over my forehead. Jesus it's far too fucking hot in here.

"Steven – this isn't…"

"You gonna turn me down?! you've been making me hot for twenty four hours right and you're really gonna turn me down again?"

I blink my eyes slowly open. I forgot how adorable he looks when cross. I lose my words for a moment.

"Just admit it," he breathes, "you want me, just as much, as I want you."

He's looking at me like I'm incredible – like he would get off just from watching me…Oh - yeah. I stand up slowly, unfurl my limbs for his viewing pleasure. I walk up to him, right up to him, stop within kissing distance.

I reach out a hand to touch his lips, I've missed doing this.

"You want me?" I ask, because even lost to him I know I can't let him do this out of some notion about thanking me, or repaying me, I only want him to _want_ me.

"I always have."

And nothing's gonna stop me now. My hand grips the back of his neck and pulls him to me, and as soon as our lips touch my tongue is stroking between his - right into his mouth. There's not one ounce of that lightness there was before – this is all teeth and tongue and hands. Hands everywhere.

There is nothing here but two bodies in craving, two bodies addicted to each other.

His hand sinks under my swim shorts, grabs my cock and starts to pump really fast. Jesus he is so good at this. I trail my lips down his jaw, past his adams apple, bite at his fluttering pulse point. I know he's sweet there and I know I'm gonna make him keen, but God I forgot how amazing that noise is.

I snatch the condom from his grasp as I sever our lips.

"I'm gonna fuck you now," I tell him, "go bend over that bench."

This fucking cheeky smile appears on his lips, and his hand starts to tease me, his fingers trailing lighter over my aching member.

"Nope." He shakes his head sweetly, this smile on his lips that I need to taste.

I reach for him but he backs away.

"I'm gonna ride you," he tells me.

"Oh you are, are you?"

"Yeah and you're gonna fucking love it, aint ya?"

"Not as much as you would enjoy me backing you."

"Later," he breathes all these promises in his eyes.

He relents to the kiss for a brief moment.

My hand is on his shoulder blade, and he covers it – slides it down to his arse.

"But first if you want _this_-" he says tightening my fingers around the taut globe. "You have to go sit down right?"

I begin to protest but he nods just once and there's something about this new dominance that makes me crave him even more. I leave him with a slap against his arse making his breath rush.

I stand in front of the bench and slip my thumbs under my swim shorts. He bites his lip as I pull them down, slowly - exposing just my treasure trail. I'm hoping this act is gonna make him come over here and submit. Instead he just grips hold of his own cock, pumping himself in slow circular movements.

Fuck.

I finish quickly, sitting down on the wooden bench. Like I'm a bloody sub or something. But I am so fucking hard and desperate for him. I open the condom with my teeth not losing eye contact. And then he's over with me, taking the condom from me.

"Let me," he tells me and there's less dominance, more plea, in his voice.

He keeps his eyes focused on me as he kneels in front of me, holds the condom in his hand and takes his mouth slowly around it. Jesus I've only ever _seen_ this before, you know in films – I can't believe he still has tricks he hasn't shown me. He holds my gaze as he holds the condom between his plump lips. He uses his tongue to slide it down over me.

Lust beats through my every cell. Still I want to feign an act of triviality, however unconvincing, so I take a sip of the bottled water.

"Want some?" I ask, indicating the water as he pulls away.

And he nods. He tries to take it from me, but I pull it away.

"Let me," I echo and hold it to his lips, he moans as the water falls into his mouth.

A little dribbles down his chin and I bend forward and lick it up and I can see and I can feel and I can smell that this is making him as high as me.

He's more expert with the lube this time, and at least that means he's not been physically hurting as much. He watches me the entire time, you know with that look like he's trying to make me proud.

"Take a seat," I tell him when I know we're ready.

His movements are a little shaky as he stands up, arches his long legs around me to the other side of the bench. He takes my cock in his hand as he pushes me into him. He is so fucking tight and hot and I ache for him.

"Jesus," I whisper my voice so tight.

He smiles sweetly, "I'm Steven, me. Not Jesus."

"I thought you were Ste."

"Yeah…I like it when you call me Steven, though," he tells me and there's that honesty that beautiful vulnerable honesty that's just so easy for him - my incredible boy.

So I wrap my arms around his hips and lunge forward. I take his weight as I shift us to the edge of the bench. Slide in him deeper.

I hold my lips above his as I wait until those eyelashes part properly, till he's properly looking at me.

"I like it when I call you Steven, too." I tell him, give him the honesty I can. I can see by the way his eyes lighten and his lips part that he knows what it means – that it means a million words I would never say.

I take his lips and kiss him as he starts his movements over me, bending and arching. And I wanna kiss him the entire time I'm in him, I want to capture the noises of his climb and climax in my mouth. But he pushes his hands against my shoulders, pushes me back, and he's panting so fast it's like oxygen isn't enough.

"I can't – I'm gonna-" he speaks in short bursts.

"Come for me, please, _Steven_," I whisper.

And he comes alive, his skin flushing, trembling, sweating as it always does, his keens sharp and sweet as they always are, his arse so fucking incredibly tight.

I push deeper into him, gripping his hips, as I begin to erupt. His seed slashes hard against me.

His breathing is rushed and shallower than ever before. There is so much darkness in his eyes. And I know he can't see straight. He clings to me so hard it hurts and I know he's lost himself.

"It's OK," I say my promise that I will take care of him as he gives in and shatters.

I press my face into his neck as I feel my breath come back to normal - I came pretty hard myself.

He stays passive in my arms. I withdraw from him slowly, as I stroke my fingers through his hair. God he's incredible. With difficulty, because I don't wanna shift him from his nest, I take the condom off and clean us both up with the bottled water. I leave a little for him and take some for my own thirst.

"What just-" he says as he slowly comes back to me. "Did I just-"

"Yeah you passed out."

He blushes profusely, "must have been the heat musn't it? I mean never done that before, me."

"You were fucking incredible Steven." I tell him, press a kiss to silence his nerves.

A smile blushes against his lips.

"It was good, it felt good," he agrees.

I hand him the water, and he gulps it like he's thirsty.

I slide my hands over his arse, taking hold of him as I stand up.

"Hold me tighter, I'm gonna take you to bed now," I tell him and carry him all the way up the stairs.

He collapses into my bed like he belongs there - like he always has.

"I'm so hot," he breathes.

"Yeah you are."

He giggles. "No, I mean-"

"We can sleep naked," I tell him – after that I can guarantee neither of us are going to be ready for round two for a while longer.

"I'd like that," he says as he pulls me to him.

We tuck in together, he sleeps against my chest.

Eventually, he whispers, "Brady?"

"Hmmm…."

"Leah said today she likes this second part of their adventure better. It's fun livin' with the hairy man. I think she's right – innit?"

***K&M***

Steven has wrapped himself round me, an arm and a leg draped over me. Pulling me closer. His head resting underneath my chin. He soon falls asleep, snoring softly. My thoughts are unrelenting, not allowing me to drift off into oblivion with him. We didn't get to talking today. Never seemed to have a moment. The kids were about and then well…we don't seem to need dialect to communicate. It's always been easier for me to relate physically rather than verbally.

I do need to talk to him about what's gonna happen now. About what he - No. We. About what we are going to do. We're OK for a couple of days – Warren's spending Christmas in Las Vegas and I'm entitled to a couple of days away from the business – even men like me get "holiday". But in the long term? I can't take care of him and the twins - I can hardly take care of me. I can't let Chez know they were here, so I can't let them stay for the holidays. But what sort of monster would I be if I kicked them out at Christmas? So what's left? He can't get hurt. I can't send him home to _them. _I grit my teeth just thinking about them. Police aren't an option. Can't get them involved else he'll lose Leah and Lucas… Shit!

Then I recall Steven mentioning someone. An Uncle. Tony, Yeah that's right, Tony. Said he was always trying to help out like some fucking saint. Didn't try hard enough. But at least he did try. He sounded decent enough, owns some kind of business. Pretty respectable by all accounts. He could take them all in. Tomorrow I'll get Steven to invite him round and we can 'ave a chat. Yeah. That's what we'll do.

My thoughts seem to dispel a bit so my body starts to relax. I pull Steven just that little bit closer to me. He doesn't stir just lets out this little sigh of contentment. Like he thinks he's safe and protected here with me. The thought allows the need for sleep to nudge its way through. I feel myself giving in to it and my eyes start to close.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**

Massive thank you's to everyone who's reading and enjoying this. And so many hugs and cookies to those of you who are reviewing – one target we've had since we've started was 100 reviews and we're so close now! So thank you so so much for taking the time to leave a few words. We really like to hear which bits you like/where you want it to go etc. it really really means a lot.

You will be happy to know we're still with the fluff :D (we think that will make you happy anyway!)

Also Mercurial would like to say thank you for the holiday wishes she had a superb time :D Though failed at seeing Kieron :(

**Chapter Warning:**

A flavouring of angst and a dash of smut, makes for an overall fluffy, quite long, chapter.

**Chapter Nine – Ste Hay.**

I open me eyes and I'm like well boilin'. Brady's wrapped around me proper tight. I shift a bit and throw back the covers, the air cooling me down. It's real cold though so I quickly pull 'em back over us. Can tell it's nearly Christmas, the twins are 'oping it snows soon, they're proper happy here.

I feel good too. Like I 'aven't done in ages. I lean over and give Brady a quick kiss on the lips. Nothing. So I start to trail my fingers down his chest 'til I reach his stomach.

"Steven." he says all authority like and looks at me wiv one eye open.

He grabs my 'and brings it to his mouth, grazing my knuckles with 'is teeth.

"You're wide awake this morning aren't you? Thought you'd be worn out after last night," he says opening both eyes and stretchin'.

"It's like bin ages since I slept this good."

"Well that's me, I'm like a lullaby," he grins, yawning.

"Thanks though," I say serious.

"For what?"

"For being here for me."

"I'm always gonna be here for you, Steven. You know that don't you?"

I nod and smile at 'im. I do know that. I do feel safe, like 'e is protectin' me.

I jump outta bed, pull on 'is joggers coz its right cold and go to brush me teeth. I 'aven't even got me own toothbrush so use Brady's, it's one of them electric ones. Never used one before. I'm sure he won't mind.

"Oi, what are ye doing?!" His voice behind me makes me jump.

"I aint got a toothbrush, like, so was just borrowin' yours."

"Well" he says snatching it off me "Ye coulda asked and I would have got ye a spare toothbrush head." he says reaching over me into the cabinet to get a new one.

He swaps the 'eads and hands it back to me "There."

I grin at him and start brushin'.

I can see 'im shake 'is head in the mirror.

"We are going to have to take ye shopping today. Get you some essentials. Stop ye using my toothbrush. And wearing my clothes." he grins pinging the waistband elastic on the joggers I'm wearin'.

I smirk at 'im, "wan' me to take 'em off?"

He raises his eyebrow at me, lookin all cross like he's try'na tell me off for bein' too up for it - he can't keep it up though, he's laughin and smilin in no time.

He steps up close to me, presses his back into my front so I can feel him all against me, his chin rests into my neck.

"How do you still have energy after last night?"

I shrug, I speak mouth full of toothpaste, "cos I'm not proper old innit?"

He pats me on the bum, before his hand rests and squeezes real hard, this look like he's thoughtful. His eyes meet mine in the mirror and they're all like dark like when they are when he's thinkin' bout things that make him sad. I reach to trail my hand up through his hair and he starts to smile, a little. He takes the toothbrush out of my hand, puts it back in it's stand.

"Spit," he says.

When I've done it he takes hold of my chin, fingers pressing into my cheeks and turns me to face him. He looks deep in my eyes like he's seein' my soul. He kisses me then, it's a proper powerful kiss, like he's completely in charge. I'm just left 'alf restin' against the sink, not sure I could move if I tried.

He breathes, "hmm, you taste like toothpaste."

And he's full on beamin' now.

***K&M****

I get Leah and Lucas dressed in summa Paddy's old clothes.

Leah looks down at the floor lookin' proper bummed out.

"What's up darlin'?"

"I look like a boy! I'm wearing stinky boy's clothes!" she says standin' all annoyed, like, wiv her arms crossed and right pout goin' on.

"Don't worry Mr Brady is takin' us into town to get some new getup." I smile at her "That's well nice of 'im ain't it?"

She nods, "hairy man's kinda cool."

***K&M***

We go down for breakfast. Toast an' Jam. Seedless Jam. Brady had to point that out for some reason. There's Christmas songs on the radio and the kids start dancin' along.

"Ready?!" I whisper to the kids and they know what I mean. It's our Christmas song.

"Uh-Huh!" they smile back.

"Well I wish it could be Christmas every daaaaaayyyy," we all sing together. "When the kids start singin' and the band begins to plaaaaayyyyy."

Brady drops his toast an' looks up at us in disbelief. His eyes proper wide, like.

"Oh I wish it could be Christmas every daaaaay." we keep singing

I'm tryin' not to proper laugh at 'im. He's just starin' not saying anythin'.

"Let the bells ring out for christmaaaas!" we all take a bow for him and I'm proper laughing now and the twins are cheerin' and clappin' and jumpin' up and down.

He shakes his 'ead and turns to go to the sink but I can see the corners of his mouth twitchin' and I proper know he's 'oldin in a smile. So I go up him and kiss 'im on the cheek and he grins back at me.

"Next time, Brady, you're joinin' in."

***K&M****

After brekki the twins watch Santa Claus the movie. I haven't seen 'em this 'appy in ages. It's feelin' Christmassy with the kids snuggled up under a blanket watchin' Christmas films, 'oping it will snow.

Me and Brady sit at the kitchen table, havin' a coffee. A proper one, like, from one those fancy machines that do all different types and make it all frothy on the top.

We are havin' like a normal conversation. Brady tells me a bit about Dublin and how 'im and Cheryl moved here when they were still kids. He doesn't really talk about his ex-wife, Eileen. I wanna ask 'im but don't wanna push things when he is talkin' so easily. He asks me about when I was younger…before , like everything. Before Terry and before the twins came along and things started changing.

"What about your Uncle Tony?" he asks, "it sounds like he looked out for you."

"Yeah, I guess. I mean he used to come round a lot when it was just me and mam and 'elp us out wiv money an' shit. He used to take me out sometimes too, to the park and he took me to Chester Zoo once."

It feels, like, I dunno, like he's actually listenin' to what I 'ave to say. And like he's interested. He's not tappin' his foot or lookin' elsewhere. He's lookin' right at me and don't look bored. He ain't interruptin' neither. I don't think me Mam 'as ever asked me questions an' actually given a shit about the answer. Unless it's to do wiv how much drug money I've made.

"Why did it change?" he asks.

"Me mam met Terry and I mean before she was pretty useless anyways but when he moved in they started drinkin' and smokin' more and started takin' gear too. It got 'arder for Uncle Tony to come round. Mam was always askin' him for more and more money and tryin' to get 'im involved in whatever shitty scheme they 'ad goin on at the time. And Tony 'as no backbone. Would always do what mam told im to."

Brady takes a sip of his coffee and seems to be takin' in what I just told 'im .

"Why don't ye invite him round for dinner one night this week?"

"Really? Why would ya want 'im round ere?"

"He's your Uncle, Steven. And it seems like he did care about you and the twins and he's probably worried about you."

Worried about me? Yeh right, I doubt it. But it can't do no 'arm. The twins will like seeing 'im. So I do call him, use the phone in the hallway.

"Alright Uncle Tony? It's Ste"

"Ste?! Where are you?" he sounds surprised to hear from me – not worried at all.

"Me and the twins are staying wiv a…erm… Brendan Brady. He's like…erm…my boyfriend. I mean friend innit?"

"Er, right." He pauses. "Ok. Do your mum and Terry know where you are?"

"No!" I say quick. "And you can't tell 'em right? Anyway, we wanna like invite you round for some dinner, like."

Funny but he's a little resistant, so I say I'll make roast beef which I know is his favourite and we arrange it for the end of the week. Can't believe Brady wants to do this for me – must mean he proper wants to know me and the kids.

***K&M****

We all 'ead into town in Brady's car. It's a BMW. Never been in a car this nice before. It looks different to the one he came to get me after, y'know, all that stuff with Mr Fox.

"Is this the car you came to get me in the other day?"

"No, Steven that was the Lexus."

"How many cars ya 'ave?!"

"Three."

"Three?! We never even 'ad one!"

He sort of looks at me but don't say nothin', just turns the radio to more Christmas songs. The kids start singin' along again and I look at 'im wonderin' if he's had enough but he looks in the rear view mirror at' em and smiles. So I start singin' along too.

Brady is dead generous and buys loads of new get up for the kids and me. I get some new trackies and a pair of proper boss trainers. We've just about got everything we need apart from some 'princess shoes' for Leah. She don't want no other shoes. We've been in like a hundred shops but none are right. She just stands there wiv her arms folded shakin' her 'ead at every other pair I've shown her.

When we finally get outside, with them shoes, the kids just squeal wiv excitement!

"Ste! Ste! Look it's Christmas!"

It does proper look like Christmas. There's a load of market stalls sellin' Christmas setup, they're all decorated with paper snowflakes, icicles and tinsel. All the people are carryin' bags full of presents and decorations for their trees. I can smell hot doughnuts and cookies and….what are they again? Chestnuts! Yeah Chestnuts. Everythin' just feels right exciting. I love Christmas, me!

"Come on Brady!" I grab his 'and to pull him into the market.

He kinda resits, looking down at our hands. Shit. Maybe I shouldn't 'ave done that – held his hand like, but I ain't letting go. I pull 'arder and he clears 'is throat and looks up at me but don't let go.

We walk together towards the fair, Brady squeezes my hand every so often as though reassurin' me it's ok.

Brady pays for the twins to go on a coupla rides. We are just watchin' them go round on the carousel when he suddenly drops me hand and seems to make some distance between us.

"What's the matter?"

"Erm, nothing, Steven," he shifts about uncomfortably, keeps looking into the crowd.

"No, come on Brady, why did ya let go of me hand? And why do you look all nervous?"

"Can I not just let go of ye hand? Do I need a reason?" he's getting proper defensive now.

"Brady, come on…please?"

He sighs and looks at me, his expression all apologetic, "I'm sorry Steven, I thought I saw someone I knew. A business associate."

"And?"

"And. And while I liked it, not everyone I work with is so…..understanding."

"So you're ashamed?!" I feel tears start to well up in my eyes. I take a deep breath, don't want to give 'im the satisfaction.

"No! Of course I'm not, Steven! You have no idea how much I want to! It's just, erm, I have never held someone's hand before. Not in public. Apart from my Wife's. And I panicked. I'm sorry." he tells me honestly.

Before we can say anymore, the carousel finishes and the kids jump off and run up to us. They have the biggest smiles ever on their faces. It kinda rubs off and I can feel myself smilin'. I nod at Brady, let 'im know it's ok.

***K&M***

We stop at a café, Brady needs a coffee and he gets a Hot Chocolate for me an' the kids. It's like a proper nice one, with whipped cream and marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles. Even though it's cold we sit outside. We 'ave our new coats, 'ats, gloves and scarfs on and it feels well cozy. Leah and Lucas keep tryna make circle shapes with their hot breath after they've 'ad a sip of the hot chocolate. I watch some bloke and 'is kids buy a Christmas tree. A real one.

"Braaaady?" I ask smilin' sweetly, like the twins do when they want sommit.

"Yes?" he asks archin' an eyebrow.

"Do you reckon we could get a tree and some lights and some tinsel and some decorations an' that. To you know, put up at yours?"

"I have a tree at home, Steven, a little plastic one that sits nicely out the way."

"I would really like a real one. Pleeeeeeeeeeease?"

"Steven, Christmas is over rated and too commercial. It's expensive and about people making as much money as they can. I'm glad when-"

I lean over and shut 'im up with a peck on the lips. He looks a bit shocked at first.

"Steven…please. Not here." he whispers. But as he's sayin' it I can see he 'as this little smile in 'is eyes.

"Look, Grinch. Christmas is about kids and makin' it magical for 'em. It's about spending time wiv people close to ya." I sit back, he's like proper smilin' at me now "Even, I know that and my christmasses have always been crap. We never 'ad a tree and I never got any presents from me mam and Terry. The only person who bothered was Uncle Tony."

"Ok. Ok. We will get a tree and some decorations." he sighs, giving in.

"Yes!" I say to the twins, high fiving them.

We go and look at the trees. I want the 8ft one but Brady puts his foot down. Like proper authorative, which makes me giggle.

He spends proper ages choosing one like he's makin' sure he gets the best one. I'd 'ave been 'appy wiv any of 'em, me. He lets me and the kids choose the decorations. Rolls 'is eyes every time I pick up one. So I keep tryin' to find a tackier one just to see the look o' horror on his face and I can't stop laughin'.

We just about manage to carry the tree back to the car. Didn't really think about how we would get it in there when we chose it. Brady starts grumblin' about all the pine needles that are going to be in the boot of his car. I give 'im a little nudge wiv me elbow. Tell 'im to smile. He turns to look at me all grumpy but he can't keep it up and it turns into a smile.

***K&M***

We get back to Brady's and unpack all the clothes he bought us. Leah goes to try every little bit on one at a time and come show us. Lucas tries to put everything on at once "Coz it's all his favourite." I thank Brady again for everything he's done for us. Not just for me but for the twins.

"I think it's time to put the Christmas tree up, yeah?" Brady asks grabbing the tree and marching into the living room before waitin' for an answer.

He's found a bucket which he wraps tinsel 'round, puts the tree in and in, asks me to 'old it while he fills the bucket up with compost, makin' sure the tree is proper secure.

"I wanna help Ste!" Lucas jumps up.

"Ok champ, you 'old the tree 'ere then. Between the branches on the trunk so the prickles don't get ya."

He carefully reaches 'is hand through the branches and manages to grab it lookin' all pleased wiv himself.

"Right, now 'old it still 'til Mr Brady has filled the bucket up, ok?"

He nods but the minute I let go the tree starts to topple over.

"Whoa, nearly young man!" Brady says to Lucas as he leaps up proper quick to catch the tree before it tips right over.

"Ohhh!" Lucas stamps his feet proper annoyed.

"It's alright, how about Steven holds the tree and ye can help me fill the bucket with compost. How does that sound?"

"Yeah I can do that!" Lucas smiles as he uses his 'ands to 'elp Brady fill the bucket.

"Ok who's gonna 'elp put the decorations on?" I ask when they're done securing the tree.

"Me! Me! I will!" the twins speak together barge past each other to get to the all the decorations we bought today.

Brady wraps the multi-coloured lights round the tree then we pick the kids up to hang baubles on the higher branches. We wrap loads'a different colour tinsel round it and put the little chocolate snowmen on.

Brady digs around in a cupboard and brings out this proper old angel. Said him and Cheryl used to 'ave it on their tree when they were little.

"Ain't been used in a while." he says "When the kids were really little Eileen used to decorate the tree and would always put this on top. Haven't used it since she….went."

It makes me wonder where she went. He hardly ever talks about her and I don't think the boys ever even mentioned her to me. It always feels, I dunno, a bit awkward. The boys must miss her, like, cos they've been bought up good so she musta been a decent mam to 'em.

He's lookin' at this angel kinda sad.

"Brady, look we don't 'ave to-"

"No, I want to," he interrupts, then puts in on the top of the tree.

"Right stand back all of ye. Let's see if these lights work."

He turns the main light off and switches 'em on and loadsa multi-coloured flashing lights fill the room. Brady stands back and admires our work.

"I proper love it, Brady. Thank you." I smile at 'im. "But there's one thing missing!"

"What's that?" he questions

"Christmas carols!"

"Oh, Christ." he rolls 'is eyes at me.

Me an' twins dance and sing along, whilst Brady stands and watches us. He smiles over at us and watches us but doesn't join in. I wonder if Christmas has ever been a 'appy time for him.

***K&M****

I offer to cook for us all tonight. Brady says we can get a takeaway but I like cookin' for us. For him. Makes me feel like I'm doin' something to 'elp out. A way of sayin' thanks. I like watchin' him eat somethin' I've cooked. He eats it in a way that's kinda greedy, but not in a bad way. Like it tastes so good and he can't get enough.

After dinner the kids go and play and we wash up together.

"Thank You, Steven. It was delicious. You really are a great cook, you know."

"Thanks." I smile. "I do enjoy it, right. We used to do cookin' at school and teacher always said I was a sound cook… Maybe I should be a chef." I laugh.

"You are talented enough to be." He says seriously. "You can be anything if you put that clever mind of yours to it."

Nobody 'as ever said that to me outside o'school. That I could do something wiv my life. That I could do whatever I want to. Used to bein' told I'm not good enough for anything. It means a lots, right, comin' from Brady. It's like he not only wants to protect me, he believes in me too.

I focus down at the plates I'm washin, and don't look at him when I pass him one to dry. But from the corner of my eye I see 'im tilt his head to the side like investigating me.

"What?" He asks in that way he knows is just gonna make me tell him proper everthin'.

"Well I mean just like you say proper nice stuff about me innit?"

"Like what?"

"Like that - about me bein' good enough and stuff."

"I speak the truth Steven." He sets the plate on the stand, and cups my face. He tilts my head so we're lookin at each other, I don't wanna meet his eyes though. "Look at me," he insists – so I do. "Steven Hay you're dynamite."

I laugh a little.

"What like I explode?!"

And then I feel colour in my cheeks as I think of last night – proper exploded then innit?!

"Well that," his head tilts to the side as he laughs. "And you can achieve anything; You're powerful Steven, don't let anyone tell you you're not. And one day you can change everything Steven, ever-"

He's stopped talkin' cos I'm kissin' him. My hands on his face, and he moans a little as my tongue licks to taste him. Can't believe he can say these things to me and mean it – and when I look in his eyes I can see he does. Our foreheads rest together.

He whispers, "dynamite – don't forget that OK?"

***K&M***

We sit down to watch Home Alone wiv the kids. All of us together and it feels , like, like this is how a family should be. I feel safe here. Happy.

The twins sit in between us and Brady reaches over the back of the sofa and rests his hand on my shoulder. I put my hand on top of his. We spend most the film in silence, occasionally exchanging looks over the twins heads. I can't stop smiling at 'im.

"Right you two...it's time for bed." I say to the twins when the film ends

"Oh can we have one story down here? Please Ste." Leah asks hopefully.

"Ok, One. Then bed."

"Yep, just one." She leaps up and runs as fast she can upstairs to choose a book.

"The Grinch who stole Christmas," Brady says half laughin'.

He meets me eye and then he's proper laughin' cos he's worked out me and the twins have been callin him that since his rant at the café. I look at the tree all lit up and the kids all smiles and I know he's gonna proper _give_ us Christmas Day – like the Grinch does at the end of the book I guess.

"Will you both read it to us together?" she asks

I panic a little cos not read this before and it looks kinda long and I'm not sure my dyslexia will 'old up. But Brady rests his hand on my back and it's like I get confidence from tha' or somethin' cos I actually smile.

"Sure thing, princess." Brady says, and starts.

And his hand don't leave my back and he makes me feel like I can achieve proper anything….like I'm dynamite.

***K&M***

"Right. Bed. Now. Say goodnight to Mr Brady and thank him for takin' us shoppin'."

"Thank you Mr Brady hairy man. Night." Leah says reaching up to hug him

"You're welcome princess." he kisses the top of her 'ead

"Thank You Mr." Lucas says and Brady high fives him.

The kids are knackered. I just about get their new pyjamas on and get their teeth brushed before they are dropping off. I give them both a kiss on their foreheads and tell 'em I love 'em. And I do, more than anything. I am so 'appy they are safe now. It's all I've ever tried to do. Keep 'em safe.

***K&M***

I find Brady in the lounge, sat with his eyes closed, drink in 'is hand, gently tappin' the glass with his finger to music I don't recognise.

"Had enough of Christmas Carols eh?"

"Yes, Steven. Thought it was time for some real music."

"So who is it then?"

He eyes shoot open and he looks at me questioningly. One eyebrow all raised up.

I shake me 'ead, shruggin'.

"Steven, Steven, Steven. It's Johnny Cash. The Man in Black." He says slowly shakin' his 'head. "He wrote a lot of his songs about sorrow, moral tribulation and redemption."

About wha'?

"About sadness," he says seein' my look. "And…forgiveness."

"Right, well, I'm more of a Cheryl Cole man, meself."

He rolls 'is eyes and I sit next him.

"How come you get whiskey?" I nod to his drink "And I get a coke?"

"Because, this, for me Steven, is Christmas in a glass."

He sits up and clears his throat, "we should call a Babysitter in one night, yeah? So we could go out and spend some proper time together, you know? Just the two of us."

I can feel this massive grin spreadin' on me face. I kinda leap up and wrap my arms round 'im.

"Yeah, def, I'd love too! That would be proper amazin'."

I let go of 'im and settle back down onto my seat "It's been a really good couple of days."

He sort of thinks about that for a bit, and then nods "a really good couple of days."

I lay meself down, stretched along the length of the couch. I rest me 'ead on Brady's lap and he's gently stroking' me hair out me eyes wiv his fingertips. I look up and his eyes are closed again, listenin' to the kinda mellow music.

***K&M***

He goes to the bedroom and I check on the kids.

"They alright?" He asks, lookin' up at me from over his book.

"Still sleepin', still smilin'" I tell him, and he smiles and nods like that makes him happy.

He watches me as I get undressed and pull that vest of his over me again.

"I bought you pyjamas, Steven!"

"I know but I like wearin' your clothes." I shrug and he nods again. "Thanks though, Brady." Cos I proper don't feel like I've said I enough – I'm not sure I ever could.

"Steven, you don't have to keep thankin' me, and the only people who call me Brady are the people who do jobs for me," he tells me, taking my hand.

I kinda like it when he looks at me like this, so I climb over him, on the bed, under the duvet. I sit over him, so I'm pressed into him – if you know what I mean. And I feel him stir under me. So I lower my head to look at him from under my eyelashes – he likes it when I do that, innit?

"What do I do for you?" I ask him.

And he knows then I'm teasin' him, cos he grips my head and licks my mouth open, a fucking dirty kiss which is all wet and teeth and tash. I don't ever wanna kiss no-one else but Brady.

"Don't call me Brady," he says as he pulls away, his accent is proper tight.

His hands run up and over my back, like he just wants to touch me. They dip into my boxers, against my arse.

"What do you want me to call you then?"

"You know what my name is," he tells me.

But I wanna tease him some more so I say, "course, it's Brandon right?"

"It's Brendan!" He laughs, slappin' my arse that way that makes me _want_ him.

And I think about calling him Brendan, you know when we're - you know…and it don't feel right, like it doesn't really suit him.

"What's that face for?" He asks, his hands are trailing around to the front now, so I'm pretty sure my face aint really showing more than how much I want him.

"It's a proper old name-" I say sassily, and then I hit on what I wanna call him, "I guess I could call you Bren?"

He laughs that laugh that's mine. And he moves so I fall onto the bed, his hands separate my legs.

"Hmm, Bren eh?" He asks, I love the way his accent get when he's turned on.

"Yeah," I say and then I breathe his name dead slow and dead low, "Bren."

And he does that growling thing and hooks my legs onto his shoulders.

"Yeah I can deal with Bren," he tells me.

***K&M***

I watch 'im sleep, he's all stretched out on his back, his arms above his head like you can see the strength in 'im. He snores but softly like. And he's smilin' - he looks happy. I can't wait to spend Christmas here, with all the kids and that. It's gonna be proper perfect. I feel like we're all so safe here innit? I feel protected.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

We maaaaaade it :D! 100! Yeeeeey!

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing, we're both so flattered that you've created our triple figure reviews! So thank you so much :D We sound a little like a broken record now but it really does mean a lot to us!

So you're all screaming out for angst now right? Just remember that :P we're not quite there yet though – Brendan needed some happiness too!

**Chapter Warning:**

A large helping of smut, and some angsty undertones, and another rather long chapter!

Chapter Ten – Brendan Brady.

"You like the view huh?" I whisper.

I rest my head into the crook of his neck. His face is cold from the winter air, but his body is so warm under the duvet.

I trail a tongue across his shoulder bones, taste the scent of us, breathe in his heated post-sleep skin.

"Hey, you."

As we make eye contact he smiles - he's been doing a lot of that recently, these last four days with me.

He strokes a hand down my chin, little finger drifting over my tash. I wrap my arm around his hip.

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says.

"I was," I say – _I've_ been doin' a lot of that recently – surprisingly. I guess it's easier to sleep with a warm body next to yours.

He shucks up further into my embrace, that naked, delectable arse right by my cock. Then again, maybe my new healthier sleep routine has something to do with all the exercise I've been getting recently – every morning and every evening.

I stroke my hand over his abs, knowing they'll be flexing and relaxing like that – our bodies so in tune.

"Yeah the view," he plays – try'na pretend he's not as awake as I can feel he is. "It's proper good."

These massive bay windows, that were Eileen's only request, wrap around the three sides of the room, reach floor to ceiling. We sleep with the white linen curtains tied back - you can see the entire city and right into the distance. And this crystal clear evening I have to concede that it looks perfect. City lights shine so much brighter at this time of year. The right side of Steven's face blocks half my night time view, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

"What can you see?" I smile, pressing my lips to the soft part of his neck, trailing up to the back of his ear.

I slide my thumb up into the crescent of that beautiful arse. Jesus he's still so open for me, his body remembering last night's touches - this time he's not even gonna need lube.

"Erm, I can ah!" He cries as my thumb slips easily right into him.

God I fucking love that sound. How can I have had him twenty times in the last four days and still want so much more, so badly? Letting him go to his uncle this evening will be the hardest thing – whether the consequences will be good or not.

It's been a crazy week, beyond the sex. All four of us have had so many good times together – Christmas tree decorating, carol singing, museum visiting, film seeing, and hot chocolate drinking – a lot of hot chocolate drinking. The twins' smiles have done nothing but grow, and Steven looks more relaxed than I've ever seen him. And yeah, I guess I'm kinda happy too.

"Shall I tell you what I can see?" I ask stroking my free hand over his chin, making sure he keeps looking out as I touch him, slowly open his relaxed muscles.

"Do you see that square of lights? With the red bottom? That's the ice rink we took the twins to," I say, remembering how fuckin' adorable Steven looked as he tottered about on skates for the first time.

Silently he welcomes my body - widening his legs, turning more onto his front, so I have a better access to that fucking amazing arse.

"And the line of silver and gold just along – that's that Christmas market." I tell him, as I release his chin to grab for the condom - slide it on.

"And the gold with the green trim, just there? That's the church," with my face rested against his I can feel him smile, "yeah where we went to the carol concert."

"Once in Royal David's City stood-" he starts singing quietly - the bloody irritating song Leah was singing on loop.

"Shut up," I say, biting the lobe of his ear.

This boy can do a lot of things but singing is not one of his talents, and he knows it.

"You want a different one? Ooh I wish it could be Christmas every daaaay-"

He's teasing me – trying to put me off, but nothing will ever put me off him. With my hand on his chin I roughly angle his face towards mine. He moans, desperate and wicked and I steal it in a possessive kiss. As I separate his lips with my tongue he keens, that noise he knows goes straight to my cock, and I reward him with another finger.

His lips tremble as I pull away. In the dark all I can see are those bee stung lips and the flutter of those beautiful eyelashes. God he really doesn't know he's this beautiful. I angle his face away to the nightscape. I worship the shine of the lights over his smooth skin – nightlights will never look the same again.

"Keep looking," I command.

But right next to the lights from St Johns is a serpent of blue and red that I don't want him looking anywhere near – it's the estate. So I indicate something at the top left, just beyond the horizon.

"That line of yellow there, right in the distance, eight lights in a row, that's the river at Deeside. Have you ever been?"

It's a gamble - I don't know if these are gonna be happy memories or not. But from what he told me swimming was normally an activity he did with Tony so I think it's a risk I can take.

"A couple of times," he says, and there's a feint smile on his lips.

Good.

"I'm gonna take you there one day, Steven. I wanna fuck you in the water," I paint a fantasy.

A thrill passes straight through his body and I can feel it with every inch of mine. I know he's ready for me now.

I pull my hand away and press right against him, my cock seeking the salvation it finds in his warmth.

"You'd love it," I breathe.

I enter him and steal that breath from his lips.

"It's like the swimming pool," I tell him remembering how alive he was when I finally took him there yesterday.

Our sighs are reciprocated as I'm finally in deep.

"Only much, much better."

"Fuck, Bren!" He keens, arching up into me, "you feel proper incredible."

"It's cos you're so relaxed," I breathe.

I stroke a hand over his hip, my fingertips playing lightly with his hard cock.

"I'm inside you so deep right now," I say feeling my balls brush gently against those perfect cheeks, "this is gonna take me a moment, and if you last out, if you let me come before you, I'll reward you."

This fuckin' cheeky beam plays against his lips – I swear it shines.

"How you gonna do that?"

I lean a little over him, so my mouth is over by his ear, lather my voice with the Irish

"I'll suck you off," I promise him.

His eyes widen, before they flutter closed. His lips part for this incredible fucking noise of surprise, desperation, sheer excitement. I haven't done it yet – the amount of times he's done it to me and I haven't returned the favour. And God I need to tonight, before I lose him from my bed. I need to know everything about him - I will keep his presence here in memories.

"So keep looking," I say, stroking my fingertips lightly over his eyelids, feeling the flutter of those eyelashes against my skin.

"What at?" He beams, enjoying our game, as I keep my thrusts within him gentle and slow.

"Down there, bottom left, the green triangle – that's the cafe we were gonna go just you and me." The day before last, when we called the babysitter in for two hours.

"Our date?" He beams.

"Yeah," I say lightly - how the boy could have translated a quick coffee and cake as a date I've not worked out yet.

"So that there, is the alley way, right?"

"Jesus – yes!"

"It were pretty good there innit?" He says his voice dressed in teasing tones. "And you thought you were gonna last till we got home. God it was so fucking amazing Bren right? I'm so fucking glad you didn't."

His face tilts towards me, he's dipping his accent into the scally and he's smiling - he knows exactly what he's doing.

"It was proper the best fucking date ever innit? Never had so much fun, me."

He's talking to bring me off. He knows the power of this act of his. So I grip my nails into the jut of his hips, work my thrusts harder and he moans and keeps telling me and telling me about the alley way - about how good it felt to be fucked by me there, to feel the winter sun on his skin when I was inside him; how exciting it was to trust me to know we were private, and yet still be able to hear people talking; how it felt like he was gonna come forever.

"Jesus, Steven," I spill into him with his name against my lips.

As I withdraw he bites his lip and beams - he's won the challenge.

I yank his legs apart, pulling him onto his back. His cock so hard and deliciously shining in the early morning light. I run my tongue up the inside of his thighs, my tash scratches over his balls.

"Keep telling me what you see," I tell him.

He smiles for a moment before talking, "directly over, same level, one yellow light right? I think that's the skate park innit?... I had my first kiss there… It were fun, just messin', it was a boy I knew from school, Mark."

I lift my head to stare at him - he's thinking about others now? Right now? But I can see in the intensity of his gaze that his minds nowhere but me and these recollections are designed to make me jealous. It won't work. I lick over the head of his cock, watch his hips arch into the bed.

"Eight years ago." Steven continues like I'm not even affecting him – but I know his body so well now. "He reckons he's a bit of a player now, bi - has all these one night stands, and he's given himself a proper ridiculous nickname like Digger or sommit. He's still pretty hot though. He was dead go- OUCH!" He yelps as my teeth leave his hip.

"Stop messin'" I order.

"Why? Not jealous are you?"

"Look at me," I say leaning up for a second to wave a hand down my torso, "do you think I ever get jealous?"

And then I deep throat him quickly, show him how good I am. His fingers twist in my hair as expletives fall from his lips.

His hips bend and arch into the bed, all these fucking amazing sounds painting my room.

Eventually his eyes flash back over to the windows.

"Yeah so that's the skate park, and just below that, the big building in shadow – that's where you saved me."

***K&M****

They're all sat in front of the telly, The Rugrats, Steven's favourite cartoon is on. They're all laughing. Leah's starting up her millionth pillow fight with Lucas. They look like a family. And they look like they're at home you know.

The moment Steven sees me he sits up, takes his feet off the table, this look on his face like I've chastised him – and I told him not to put his trainers on the lounge table but it doesn't matter that much. So when I've sat down, I take hold of his calves and rest them over my lap. Dismiss his "You're dead sweet" look.

"Right, you three stay 'ere, I'm gonna make us some brekkie," Steven announces swinging his legs off my lap. "What do you's all want?"

"Toast with chocolate spread!" Leah shouts.

"I want toast cut into triangles." Lucas adds thinking about it carefully. "One triangle with chocolate spread, one with honey, one with peanut butter and one with jam."

"Right, ok." Steven rolls his eyes at me smiling "And you Mr Brady, Sir" he puts on this posh voice "What would you like this morning?"

"Steven, you don't have to make me breakfast every morning," I say getting up.

"No, right, sit down. I don't mind, me."

I watch him go off into the kitchen and I sit and play with the kids whilst Steven cooks us breakfast. Like it's the most natural thing in the world – having them all here.

After we eat another amazing breakfast Leah and Lucas go upstairs to get dressed. Leah comes down with a little bag.

"Look Ste, I found this! We can do face painting now!" she says excitedly.

"Er, Leah, you know you shouldn't go lookin' through other peoples stuff." Steven looks at me. "Sorry Bren."

"I wasn't! I was just looking for some hair bobbles and I found it," she says sticking out her bottom lip and looking at the floor.

I look at the small floral bag that Leah is holding and I feel the blood slowly start to drain my face as I realise it must be Lynsey's. I didn't even know it was still there. I thought I had boxed up all of her stuff after she….left. I feel a pang of sadness as I look at it. I don't want Leah to notice so I quickly pull myself together and Give Steven a small smile to let him know it's ok.

"It must have been Lynsey's make-up bag. I didn't know it was still there. It doesn't matter." I shrug at him.

"Hey, it's alright princess," I tell her lifting her chin up with my finger. "We can do face painting if you like, yeah. What do ye want to be?"

She beams at me but then shakes her head. "I don't want my face painted. I want to paint yours! So you look like a princess," she giggles.

"Yeah Mr Brady would love that, wouldn't ya?! Mr Brady loves havin' is make-up done like a princess, don't ya?!" Steven taunts me.

I glare at Steven but that only makes him encourage Leah further.

I look between them and realise that I'm not going to be getting out of this one so I hold my hands up in defeat.

"Alright, alright. Ye can make me look like a princess."

I sit back and let Leah start work whilst Steven goes up to play with Lucas.

"Right, keep still," she tells me as she climbs up and sits on my knee facing me. She starts sweeping some translucent powder over my face. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her tongue is sticking out as she concentrates.

"Close your eyes now, please." I do as I'm told and it feels like she's drawing around my eyes with a pencil. Badly.

Jesus.

"I hope you like purple, Mr Brady," she says as I feel a brush being swept over my eyelids, right up to my eyebrows.

Jesus.

"Yes sweetheart, it's one of my favourite colours." I smile.

"You can open your eyes now" she tells me, "but I haven't finished yet."

She roots round in the bag and see her pull out a big brush and some bright red powder. She starts to circle the brush on my cheeks, dipping it in the powder and then back on my cheeks. Over and over and over again.

Jesus.

Next she pulls out a small cylindrical bottle filled with a glossy pink liquid. She unscrews the lid and pulls out the applicator.

"Now do this," she says pointing to her lips which a stuck out in a very big pout.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! Come on!" she bounces on my knee.

So I pout.

Jesus.

She gently applies the gloss to my lips, giggling as she gets some in my moustache.

"Done!" she announces jumping off my knee and stepping backwards to admire her work.

"Ste! Lucas! Come and look!" she shouts loudly.

"Do not say ANYTHING!" I glare at Steven as he and Lucas step into the room.

"Haha," Lucas laughs pointing at me. "You look like a girl!"

"He's not a girl Lucas, he's a princess!" Leah tells him off.

"You look….erm, yeah, you look right pretty, you" Steven snorts. Trying to hold the laughter in. His eyes shining brightly.

"Yeah, yeah alright. I'm a princess. Thank you Leah for making me….all pretty."

"You're welcome!" she beams with pride.

Steven mouths "thank you" at me and I can see the happiness dancing behind his eyes – I would do anything for that look.

Leah and Lucas run off and start playing "pirates" on all my furniture. Steven comes up to me, and I reach out for him, pull him into my lap. He looks at me, his eyes shining like they do before our kisses, but then he laughs.

"I proper can't kiss you when you look like that!" He protests, so I tickle him instead.

I rest my chin into the crook of his neck as we watch the kids.

Watching the group of them I know exactly what we should do today. Steven's right - Christmas should be magical, and if any kid deserves it then these guys do. So that's the only reason I'm daft enough to say to two eight year olds-

"Who wants to go see Santa?"

***K&M***

"You hate Christmas, though," Steven reminds me, only a little too late.

Those flashing lights are already giving me a headache, that awful childlike music has sunk into my bones and the smells of cinnamon and allspice have turned my stomach. Yet I would take all that a thousand times over for the look on the twin's faces as we finally arrive.

There are memories here, of Eileen and my family. Christmas was always Eileen's thing – she would do it so perfectly that I would wish there had been someone like her in my childhood. And yeah faced with those memories you know I get those old feelings of betrayal and devastation – desolation. But they all disappear in a single one of Steven's smiles.

Grosvenor has really gone all out this year – 'Santa's grotto' is this huge green felt put up in the middle of the square. There's a red carpeted queue and a million excited children's faces. There are a dozen or so students dressed in elf outfits - giving out chocolate reindeers on sticks.

I'm listening to Leah chattering away when I feel Steven moving next to me. He stands taller, puffs out his chest, fold his arms – you know signs of allure. I turn to smile at him but he's not even looking at me! I follow the trail of his gaze and see this boy, probably twenty, dark skin like chocolate, big arms, muscular, kinda nice body – if you like that sort of thing. Yes I know Steven does. Their smiling at each other – sharing a look of mutual attraction. Elfboy does this toothy smile, which is unfortunate because he's got one of those gap tooth's – totally unappealing, I do see the little impulsive lip lick Steven does though.

And I can't have that can I?

Hidden by the million shopping bags of things the twins saw and wanted I slide my thumb along the waistband of his jeans. Yeah I guess I'm a little possessive. He flicks his head immediately, eyes looking all apologetic for a moment, but he quickly lets out this small laugh. The cheeky fecker!

Lucas involves us both in a game of eye spy, and as we play I feel Steven's eyes flick over me, _appreciating_ – that's better.

"Reindeer?" The elf says standing behind us.

Steven beams, and the strangers eyes get darker, yes I know my boy has a beautiful smile.

Elfboy's tongue practically licks his next words, "chocolate surprise?"

Seriously?! That's his chat up line?

"Can we Mr Brady?" Lucas asks.

"Course," I say putting two quid in the charity box.

The kids both take one.

"You can have one for free if you like," Elfboy says to Steven, "nothing like a bit of chocolate."

Steven struggles, he even bites his lip at one moment. I know it's instinctive. Still, my fist trembles at my side – why can't I deck this stupid elf? Make him sparkle for Christmas.

"Nah, it's alright – it's for the kids innit?" Steven grins.

***K&M***

We get to the front of the queue, the twins smiles grow with every step. Steven starts to go inside the grotto with them but Leah turns with her hand on her hip.

"You're too old!" She tells him accusingly. "Santa won't come to you."

"Oh that's how it is?" He asks good naturedly, ruffling her hair.

I see Steven making eye contact with the _female_ elf by the front door – she nods to tell him it's OK for the twins to go in by themselves.

"OK well say hi for me won't you?" He places a kiss on the top of Leah's head and walks away but as I turn to follow she calls me back.

"Mr Brady! Would you look after snowy for me?" She asks passing me the white polar bear that hasn't left her grasp since I gave him to her five days ago – Paddy always thought it was a bit too girly for him anyway.

"Sure princess, have a good time."

She beams at me and then runs off to join her twin. I sit the polar bear on top of the bag, knowing Leah will complain if I don't help it "breathe".

Steven's looking in the window of a jeweller's at a set of watches. Under his new blue winter coat he's wearing jeans and a black jumper – my black jumper - even with the new clothes I bought him he still wants to wear mine. Yeah, I guess I like that too. His skin's shining smoothly and he looks delectable. He looks like he's auditioning to model those watches – he really has no right to being that gorgeous.

I go to join him, stand behind him, really close and breathe him in that way that normally gives him that fucking adorable blush. The kids will be in there for ten minutes minimum we definitely have time to disappear around that corner. But he doesn't even seem to have noticed me.

"Alright?" I ask; he even jumps a little. "What you look at?"

"Ah, nothing."

I thought there wasn't anything he didn't talk to me about these days.

"Steven-"

"Ah just that watch," he says pointing to one of the Gucci ones, big brown cuff with a large face. "Just reminds me, that's all."

"Of-"

He looks up at me through his eyelashes – like he's trying to work out how much to say.

"My old man, funny, don't really think about him a lot."

A shiver passes over my soul and I impulse, "This time of year does things to you."

But his face falls into shadow and I really didn't want to bring him more sadness so I prompt, "Tell me about him."

"He left when I was 7, right? Just walked out one day, I don't really remember a lot, me 'cept he used to read to me a lot, like every night. He had a watch, kinda like that one. And I remember laughing – sounds proper corny that don' it?"

"Not at all, he sounds like a nice man."

"Right?" He agrees. "But well my mam says he was a waste of space, a no gooder, says he was dead mean to her. Says she should of known leavin us was his style. But I dunno I mean they were young, he was 18 when he had me – and I proper can't imagine…"

I retreat into a realisation - Jesus Steven's seventeen – his Dad would be my age!

"…sometimes I, I mean I'd like to know what he'd think of me…prob not a lot…but I dunno maybe I'm a little like him."

And he looks really sad, his eyes dark blue like I've only seen them once before, and I hate it when he looks like that so I say a truth he deserves so much.

"He'd be really proud of you, Steven."

He pauses a moment, and then sort of smiles. His eyes search my face for honesty – that gaze I can always feel on me.

"You think?"

"Look at the way you look after the twins, the way you look after me," I say without really meaning to, I didn't think how those words would sound until I said them. "You're a bright kid," I say trying to back track quickly.

He doesn't let me though. He's looking up at me from beneath those Bambi eyelashes, turning around to face me, and I can't really remember what I was saying.

"I look after you?" He whispers, his voice like _that_.

And then his hands press over my suit jacket, in between my laden arms, trail down to my arse.

"Steven-" I warn taking an impulsive step back.

"What? Jesus, Brady! Who the fucks around?"

He steps back, really angry. I look around and he's got a point – this place is full to the brim but mostly its Saturday shoppers. This isn't the sort of place my or Foxy's associates would hang around. But you know that's not why I moved away.

"Steven-"

"Fuck off Brady – you know I'm getting proper sick, of-"

"Is this man bothering you?" We hear a voice, attempt to be threatening behind my shoulder.

Threatening – me?! I almost stop the smirk as I turn around to see the intruder. Jesus it's elfboy! Clearly from break, with a maroon hoody pulled over the top. So he's stood with green tights, red hot pants and a maroon hoody – trying to look scary…to me….

"No, no it's fine mate thanks," Steven says.

"Sure?"

Yes because I really looked like I was threatening him didn't I? Idiot.

"Yeah."

"OK well I'm Noah," elfboy says sticking out his sleazy hand to be shaken.

"Stev- Ste," Steven answers.

Even though he takes the proffered hand I find myself smiling – at the way he almost introduced himself.

"Hi Stevy-Ste," _Noah_ grins and Steven even laughs.

"No it's just Ste, it's just-"

"You forgot your own name for a moment? Happens to the best of us," he's still not let go of his hand – they're not even really shaking any more. "Listen don't suppose you fancy going for a drink?"

Well that's - _awkward_.

"Oh, thanks but erm I'm kinda seeing someone," Steven answers. His eyes flash over my face, I'm not sure if he finds what he's looking for or not because he adds. "It's complicated."

"Well if you ever fancy _un_complicated let me give you my number."

Yeah I'm sure you could do _un_complicated I'm sure you could do _un_intelligent and _un_here and _un_alive aswell. I cough and elfboy can't be as dumb as he looks cos he gets the hint.

"Oh," He says, looking from Steven to me, and back again.

"Oh." Noah repeats.

Go on - say it. Say how you thought I was his carer, or _father_. I really need a good excuse to make that ugly tooth gap bigger.

"Listen I didn't mean to get in the middle of anything."

I roll my eyes cos that's exactly what he meant to do. Steven smiles – believing him.

"It's fine."

"Run along now, there's a good little elf," I say just as Noah turns on his heel.

"Brady!" Ste says.

_Bren_ – I almost correct him but I know I'm being chastised.

"I thought you didn't do jealousy?"

"I wasn't-" I start to deny, but this huge totally fucking kissable smile grows on my boys lips and I once again can't remember what I was saying.

Fuck.

"It's OK Bren," he smiles, sidling around to me, leaning up to whisper.

He's not touching any part of me, but I can feel his heat flood through me.

"I'm not going to forget where I belong – or who saved me," he whispers, in that slowly seductive way he's mastered.

Out of my periphery I see him smile and lean even closer, whisper even lower, "Or the hottest bloke ever. Who gives me the time of my life when we're alone."

I know my breath is audible, fuck! What he does to me. He makes me fucking insatiable.

He steps back, no longer smiling, tilting his head to the side that way he does when he's angry and has a point to make.

"Even if he don't go nowhere near me when we're not!"

I start to counter but the kids are suddenly here, chocolate smeared faces, red shining presents from Santa each in their hands and massive smiles.

"Ste ste ste ste!" They sing in unison, and he bends down to hug them both.

"Come on McDonalds yeah? And you can tell me all about santa."

I watch them walk off, and I'm not kidding myself I know it's gone way past lust. Sometime over the last few days this became more than just shagging, and more than just a need to protect a lad that had no-one. I just felt _jealousy_. Jealousy.

I shouldn't have let it get this far but it felt good you know? To have someone so close to you it's like their beating through you. It's been too long since I've felt anything like this. I'm not sure I can remember the last time, was there one?

I don't do vulnerability but I haven't been in control of a single thing since he came back into my life – Steven Hay is my kryptonite, my dynamite. So tonight has to be goodbye – if you don't throw a grenade back, you let it explode.

But when this is all over Steven will know how important he is. He has to know how much he is worth – how much he has to give someone else, someone more suitable.

"Steven, I'll meet you there yeah?" I ask and he looks at me over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever," he says shaking his head, his arms even more protective over his siblings.

When he walks around the corner and out of sight I nip into the watch sellers.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**

More Brady-Hay family for you, and the angst is definitely coming in!

*Whispers* Not to sound like a broken record or owt but thank you for all the lovely reviews! Really happy you're all still loving it! And welcome to our two new followers.

We've decided we're gonna keep the chapters about this length now – it seems impossible to make them any shorter! Hope that's OK…

Stu: we've tried to work it out but we're not sure - we'll keep thinking for you :)

**Chapter Warning:**

A dust of angst and a sprinkling of smut.

Chapter Eleven – Ste Hay.

I get to McDonald's with the kids and find some seats. We wait for Bren. Where the hell is he?! I proper don't get it. At his 'ouse it's like proper perfect. Feels like we belong there. Together. Today it felt like that too. One minute we're some kinda, like, little family or somthin' but then he don't want me touchin' him and acts all jealous when that elf spoke to me.

A couple of minutes later Bren finds us and sits down.

"Where you been?" I ask still proper annoyed.

"Nowhere, Steven. Just had to make a couple of phone calls and sort some business out."

I'm about to ask him about what but the kids start complaining they're hungry. Bren gets the food in. Happy Meals for the twins, big mac meal for me and four bacon double cheeseburger meals for himself. I watch as he shovels it in, crumbs getting everywhere. There's just something about the way he eats. Animalistic. I tell myself not to think it's sexy. But I smile kinda forgetting why I'm mad wiv him.

"You've got crumbs in your moustache," I say pointing at them.

"Crumbs? Where?" he asks as I wipe them off. "Did you get them?"

I nod and he smiles at me. And I can see the smile in his eyes like he knows what just 'appened. He let me touch him in front of everyone without flinchin'.

"Look, Steven. I'm sorry about before." He sorta sighs as if battling with his words.

"This," he gestures to me and the kids "is….different for me. I ain't used to being like this, yeah?"

"In public?"

"Not just in public, I'm not used to this anywhere. It's….i'm used to pushing this sort of stuff away."

I slowly reach my hand forward and place it on 'is. Testin' his reactions. I can feel his body tensing slightly and he looks down at our hands. He looks up and I try and give him a reassurin' smile. I can see his muscles relax .

"See? It's ok. Now get eatin' before it gets cold." I tell him.

We all eat then leave to go back to the car. The kids skip ahead with their Happy Meal toys and their presents from Santa.

"You can 'old me hand if you want," I tell him

"You think I don't want that, Steven?"

"Well, what's stopping ya then?" I can see he wants to and I can see the battle he's havin' with himself.

We stand there for a few seconds, he's lookin' between my face and my hand. I can see there's somethin' in his head tryin' to stop him. Tellin' him not to do it but he slowly reaches down and takes my hand in his. His strong fingers curl round mine and I can feel the spark running between us, just from this. I look into his eyes and see he feels it too. He takes a step forward, gently pullin' me with him.

"Time to go home, Steven."

***K&M***

Back at home the kids wanna go for a swim and we have a couple'a hours so we all put on our new cosies. I stand back in the pool and watch 'em all. My heads spinnin' a little - it feels like something's just shifted between us, me and Bren – for the better, like.

Bren held my hand all the way to the car, and when we got in the car he leant over to kiss my smile. I get it, what's going on in his head, I really do, sometimes I'm scared too. But then we're just perfect, and I know I don't have nothin' to be scared of no more. I know I'm safe with him and he will always protect me – we're in this together, forever.

Now, he's playing with Leah in the corner, by the Jacuzzi, all secretive probably discussing what he calls 'the art of dunking'…Lucas is doing the dive bombs Bren taught him in the deep end. See – family – together forever.

It's obvious Bren likes having us here – even if he don't really say that. He just looks proper happy. I can't wait till the boys get back – it would just make us proper complete.

Suddenly I'm spluttering and my heads beneath the water and Leah's hands are on my head. I guess Bren must have helped her push me under. When I'm up again I can't help from laughin, I don't think I've ever seen Leah look so happy – finally getting one up on her big bro! I give her a big cuddle and see Bren smilin at us – that smile that's totally fuckin sexy. I don't know what it is but Brendan fucking Brady always looks incredible wet don' he? Like, his eyes get darker, and I like his hair like that – sort of messed 'bout his face. He gives Leah a high five, his muscles bulging, and God I need to be alone with him so bad.

"Why don't you go see what Lucas is up to?" I suggest to Leah - pointing to our little bro who's playin with a green float, going round and round.

She kisses my cheek as she swims away and I face Bren. The moment I look at him proper, I can see he knows exactly why I did that – I can see he knows I'm hot for him. So I look all over him, and he lets me, this silent talk we have just makes my heart thud.

"Alright?"

"Fine."

He leans like proper close, and I can smell him, I feel like I can taste him.

"You look _fine_ Steven," he breathes proper low – and I know he means fine in that other way.

He stares at my mouth, stares right at it, and his tongue flicks out to lick his lips. Jeez. But then real sudden, he creates a load of space between us. And I can see his eyes like twinkle – bloody laughing at me! The jerk!

"I will get you later!" I mouth.

"Hope that's a promise," he laughs.

As I watch, Leah starts swimming after him, all hidden and quiet, and I know exactly what she's thinkin' – she's going to try and dunk her teacher. But Bren turns proper fast, grabs her ankle and hand and twirls her around in a circle until she's laughing.

My sis laughs so hard she gets tears in her eyes. Then as Bren stops, she wraps her arms around his neck and he hugs her back. I know it's proper ridiculous but I feel tears spark my own eyes. I'm not ever prepared for how perfect Bren is as a member of our clan. We're a proper family.

***K&M***

He stands in the kitchen and sort'a watches me all the time I cook, we don't really say much it's just like we just wanna be together. Every time I look at Bren it's like he's just about stopping himself from saying something though – he looks kinda worried. Thinkin' bout it I guess its cos we had our first proper argument today, so I keep smilin' at him – let him know it's OK. It's only him that's thinking about the elf innit?

I make the beef and the Yorkshires and some snacks before the starters cos I know how hungry Bren gets. The kids are pretty full from their McDonalds so I'll have to keep an eye on Lucas - check he don't eat too many of these crisps. He'll complain if he has too much of a tummy ache for pudding.

Bren insisted on Crème Brule for pud – his favourite or something. Never made it before though, so I'm proper nervous, me. I did all the prep last night so I just have to bake 'em but I can't stop watching 'em. I'm dead scared I'm gonna mess it all up. Bren insisted on putting a load of dead expensive shit in them and all, so I reckon he'll be proper angry if they burn. I'm down on the floor, checking through the glass oven door for like the tenth time in two minutes when he calls me up.

"Steven," He holds out a hand for me, and helps me to my feet. Runs a thumb along my lips steps closer for a kiss. I resist him - can't get distracted innit?

"Crème brule sounds simple but it's one of the hardest things to get right you know," I tell him.

"You don't have to be scared," he tells me. "You're an amazing cook – there is nothing you can't do," and he proper means it, and I feel my heart do that thing it does when he looks at me like that. So I let him kiss me, it's soft and light like we only did when I started living here – like we're a proper couple.

"And do you know the best thing about crème brule?" He asks, "you get to use a blowtorch at the end."

"That's awesome!" Lucas chimes from behind us – I don't think either of us knew he was there – uh oh!

***K&M***

All the preparation gets done, we let Lucas use the blow torch for a millisecond, mainly I just stand with an arm over him as we watch Bren do it. As Bren does it he looks all powerful and… _sexy_.

Now, we are just clearing up. Bren is washing and I'm drying, it feels proper domesticated. The kids are playing in the lounge. I can hear 'em chattering away and they seem so at 'ome here too.

I smile at Bren, "the kids are getting so used to you, you know."

"Ste! Ste! Lucas keeps taking my white princess bear! Said he's going to pull her crown off with a torch of fire!" Leah interrupts running in.

"Don't go anywhere," I say giving him my flirtiest smile.

"Uh huh," He nods getting back to his washing up.

I walk through to the lounge with Leah.

"Right Lucas give Leah back her Polar Bear, please."

He throws it at her.

"Oi, no. Listen right. Mr Brady is bein dead good letting us stay here so please play nicely. Do ya wanna watch a film?"

"Yeah!" Lucas jumps up. "Monsters Inc!"

"Urgh!" Leah groans, "that's for stinky boys. Let's watch Cinderella!"

"Alright, alright. How about a Christmas film then?" I ask hoping to keep the peace.

"Yeah!" they both shout.

***K&M***

I leave them settled watching the film and find Bren leant against the worktop. Legs crossed, arms folded. He smiles as I walk in.

"All ok?" he asks.

"Yeah they've finally stopped arguing. They're just well excited about Christmas and that. And coz they saw Santa and got a present. Found Santa Claus: The Movie on dvd so stuck it on for 'em. Don't think they've ever seen it though reckon I did once at Uncle Tony's. Think Santa makes friends with some homeless boy and them and an elf save Christmas or something."

He's grinning at me.

"I'm proper rambling aren't I?"

He looks at me and sweeps my fringe out of my eyes.

"You're amazing, Steven," he breathes.

I swallow and move forward to press my body against his, breathing deeply at the touch.

He presses back against me and just keeps lookin' at me... He looks all hungry, like. Like he sees no-one and nothing' else but me and wants to do nothin' 'cept have me right 'ere and now. It's so intense and makes me lose all my senses, like I aint aware of my surroundings no more. He just seems to consume me.

"Ste! Mr Brady! Are you coming to watch Santa with us?!" Leah shouts from the other room.

I gather my senses and smile apologetically.

"Come on, let's go watch Santa," he smiles and turns to walk away.

"Oh and Bren-"

"Yeah?" he turns back to me.

"Merry Christmas!" I say holding a piece of mistletoe I found amongst the decorations earlier.

"Seriously?"

I nod, grinning.

"Ok" He smiles, leaning in, placing his thumb and two fingers of his left hand on my jaw as he kisses me deeply.

***K&M***

When the film finishes, it's getting on a bit so Bren goes out to get some wine for the meal tonight. I best get the kids ready.

"Ok, you two, time for a bath."

"Now?! No, I don't want to have a bath now!" Lucas whinges.

"Look, Uncle Tony is coming round tonight, yeah, so we can dress up a bit in some of the new clothes Mr Brady bought us."

"Why?" Leah asks.

"Why, what?"

"Why is Uncle Tony coming here?"

"To see us, right. It's been ages since we seen him aint it? We're all gonna have some dinner an' that."

I run the kids a bath, put loadsa bubbles in for 'em. I find some bath toys in the cabinet so drop those in too. I sit on the edge of the bath watching them whilst they both play. Leah spells out her and Lucas' name on the tiles with wet n stick alphabet letters. She then spells out 'Ste' and 'Mr Bradee'.

"You guys like it 'ere don't ya?" I ask smiling at them.

"Yeah. Mr Brady is really nice. I like it when he reads books to us and he cuddles me and calls me princess. And he bought us new clothes and got me some princess shoes."

I look over to Lucas. He's busy winding up a boat. "What about you Lucas?"

"Yeah, he's cool. I like his big telly."

"And I like his big hairy caterpillar lip." Leah giggles and gets back to helpin' Lucas wind the boat up.

I smile down at them. My heart nearly bursts at how much I love 'em. At how 'appy they are. Just watchin' em play and smile and even argue. Coz it means they are still kids. Still _innocent_. And its' all down to Bren. For saving us. I can't believe we've been 'ere nearly a week already. In some ways it's gone proper quick. In other ways it feels like we've been 'ere forever. Me, Bren and the twins. Together in one house like some kinda family, right. And I've never felt more at home.

I wash the kids' hair then get 'em out the bath and dry 'em off, taking them to find some clothes to wear. Lucas picks out his new jeans and Monster Truck t-shirt. Leah chooses some purple leggings, a pink tutu and a 'Hello Kitty' t shirt. Oh and her princess shoes, of course. I sit on the bed behind her and start to gently comb her hair, makin' sure I don't hurt her when I'm getting the knots out.

"Do you think Uncle Tony will bring us presents?" She asks. "Because it's Christmas."

"I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe. But it don't matter if he doesn't, right, because that's not why we asked him over. It's because it would be nice to see 'im and for 'im to meet Mr Brady."

"He got us presents last Christmas. He got me that roller skating Barbie and Lucas that digger truck."

"And he made us Christmas dinner coz mam and dad had to go to bed because they were poorly," Lucas remembers.

Mam and Terry had scored some gear from the junkie upstairs and got so outta their faces they had to sleep it off so Tony 'elped out and cooked dinner.

I think about how it's gonna be so different this Christmas. Bren and his boys and Cheryl. Me and the twins. No-one getting' smashed. Just all of us here together, happy. I can feel meself smiling thinking about it.

"What are you smiling at, Ste?" Leah questions.

"Oh not much darlin'. I'm just 'appy that's all," and I gather her and Lucas up in my arms and hold them tight.

As I let Leah go she looks down at the floor and asks, "Do you and Mr Brady fight, Ste?"

I feel dead bad I thought we hid our fight in the mall.

"Nah," I tell her, kiss her head. "We just had a few words today that's all, we're all made up now."

"But we heard you last night as well as this morning!" She insists, she looks proper worried.

What is she talking about?

"And the night before," Lucas pipes up.

"Eh?"

"Yeah, sometimes you scream pretty loud Ste, I don't think you should do that, Mr Brady's really nice to us, we're having a good adventure!"

Screaming? When do I…Oh….Oh God! I proper blush – before this week he proper liked me being loud I guess I forgot to tune it down! Leah's lookin' at me all expectant like – how do I even start this one?

"Ah that's nowt to worry about, sis, just..."

I hear Bren's chuckle behind us – he must have got back already! I turn around to stare at him evilly, askin' for help like, but he just makes me giggle too – Leah starts to frown.

"That's just play fighting, princess," he says stepping into the bedroom, into our little clan, he belongs with us.

"Play fighting?" Lucas looks all excited – he proper loves pillow fights, play wrestling, anything which means he gets one up on Leah cos 'e's a boy...

He looks suspiciously between me and Bren for a moment, "but who wins?"

"Me, obviously," Bren answers giving him a wink, and Lucas stands up on the bed, mimmicing Bren's Mr Muscle pose – kissing his upper arms.

Me and Leah roll about on the bed, proper laughing.

***K&M***

We leave the kids playing and go to Bren's bedroom to get ready ourselves – well it's our bedroom I guess like most of my bits are in here now and all.

We laugh all the way, I love it when Bren's eyes sparkle like that. I collapse against his door when I get there.

"Oi Mr! That better not have been you implying I'm scrawny, like!"

"I don't think I implied anythin' – you have your little brother to thank for that!"

I started this with teasing him but then I remembered what Terry said a lot, about me like, and I get proper defensive.

"Don't think I'm scrawny right?" I know it's a proper daft thing to be upset about like cos it started as a joke. But Bren catches me eye and I know that he gets it – he just gets everythin' these days. It's like he can see every little bit of me that hurts.

He walks towards me slowly, and it's like I can feel the room get smaller just with the way he's looking at me. Like I'm dead sexy and he just wants me all. From the first time we met he looked at me like I fascinated 'im, but now it's more – it's like even if he wanted to he couldn't look away. My heart proper buzzes.

He cocks his head as he gets real close, places his hand on my hips, runs up into the jumper of his I'm wearin'.

"I don't think you're scrawny Steven," he breathes proper low. His fingers stroke over the skin of my stomach and I watch his tongue as it wets his lips, "in fact I think the opposite – I think you're perfect."

His fingers get really insistent, like he wants to feel all of me. I stroke a thumb over that ridge forming in his jeans. He gasps so I can hear it. He never used to be this responsive but now he shows me exactly what I do to him. Things are different now innit?

"Steven," he rolls my name, in that way I know he loves. "Do we have time?"

"If we're quick," I nod.

"Oh I can do quick," he promises, I can hear how hungry he is for me. "I can do very quick."

Our hands strip us together so we're naked together. His skin pressed into mine, I love the way he looks on me, like the way we look together. He's pale, strong, tall and hairy and I'm – me. We're like dead opposites. It makes me feel so sexy.

He wraps his arms around me and literally forces me up into him, takes me clean of the ground. He has so much power, I'm already so hot for him.

"You're fucking perfect Steven," he tells me again.

I almost feel like I can't breathe. His mouth pause over mine, I can feel his breath over my lips so it's like if I could breathe it would only be him. Neither of us angle for the kiss, we're just looking for now, feeling the pattern of our hearts beat against each other's naked chests. He carries me to the bedside table, and leans me back against the mirror. The glass is cold against my back, but his eyes like drink me in and I feel like I'm on fire. We've not kissed and he's not even proper touched me but I'm still so bloody turned on.

He trails a finger against my lips and I know exactly what he wants – we've learned each other now. I pull him between my teeth, making his finger all wet so he can relax me.

He strokes a hand over my face, pushing at my hair line, in that way he does - all gentle. He keeps doing it even when his spit slick fingers scissor me open. I trust him so completely now. I relax so easily that it feels fucking incredible even without lube – feels almost better without it cos he tingles through me. We're dead quiet, even when he brushes up against my prostate, I bite my lip to stop a moan and he just raises an eyebrow to tell me he knows it's good. I nod when I'm ready for him, hooking my ankles together around his neck. There are no words, partly cos we're worried about the twins and also cos there's just no need. He knows me and I know him – it's like our bodies fit perfectly.

He looks at me the entire time, even when his pleasures too great and he takes a moment, he just blinks slowly and then his deep blue eyes are staring right back into mine. We reach our rhythm flawlessly, a high paced, arching rhythm and it feels like he's fucking every cell of me. I feel dead sexy when he looks at me, keeps looking at me even as I come. And when he comes into me he's still watching me, so I can see his blue eyes twinkle and pupils burst.

He rests his forehead against mine and just stares at me - like he's trying to commit me to memory or something. Like he knows this was the first time of forever innit?

When it's over he looks kinda sad, and I get that – I do, cos it's all that stuff he was saying in McDonalds it's new and it's scary but we're…we're meant innit?

"Jesus Steven," he speaks through his aftershocks, "there's never gonna be anyone like you, every day till I'm in my grave you're always gonna be in my head," he promises – he knows it too.

And then he kisses me real deep, like he's trying to taste all of me. Our foreheads touch as his cock withdraws from me. He leaves my body proper slowly. When he's gone it's odd but I kinda miss him - I feel like it's gonna be an age before he's next inside me. Which is weird cos it will be tonight won't it? When Tony's gone we'll do that and a lot more – won't we? But I guess I miss him cos it's not been like that before – cos that was like making love I guess. I know sounds proper corny but it was proper different - like it was nothing but just us needing to be a part of each other. And it's over now.

"That was proper different weren't it?" I ask, as he rolls the condom off and chucks it in the bin.

He takes my hand, like he needs to keep touching me.

"You know?" He asks.

"Course I do," I tell him.

I wrap my free hand around his waist pulling him closer to me, and raise our hands to his heart – show him how the rhythms different now. Then move it to mine show him how my beat echoes his.

We're part of each other now and nothing will ever finish this.

"And you're OK?" He breathes.

I feel a little scared when he asks that – I wouldn't ever tell him cos I know his doubts about us, but sometimes I think I'm not good enough or old enough for this. But the moment he looks at me that all goes. I know he loves me, even if he's never told me, and I know he's gonna take care of me forever, we're his family now.

"Yeah." I tell him perfectly sure, "we're gonna be OK." I promise him.

He kisses me again then, his hands on my face like he's worried I'm disappearing from him, I kiss him back strong I'm never gonna go anywhere.

"I got you something I want you to wear tonight," he tells me.

And then he brings this black polythene long bag out from the cupboard. I saw Daniel, his chauffer bring it to him earlier – I assumed it was for the boys. He unzips it and it's this black suit – white shirt, black bowtie, proper James Bond get up.

"You bought me a suit?" I ask.

"I rented you a suit," he corrects me, taking the dress shirt and helping me into it. "Tonight only."

***K&M***

It's nearly six and I'm ready, the twins are ready and Bren is ready. I've had a clean up and the house is lookin' all nice and tidy, like. For some reason I'm proper nervous, I keep pullin at my new threads. Bren keeps tellin' me to stop fidgeting. It's just, like, I've never had anyone meet me..erm..boyfriend before and I wanna make sure it's all perfect, right.

Just gone six, the doorbell rings and I jump up and go to answer it. Tony is standin' there wearin' his usual jeans, white t shirt and navy jacket that reminds me of the blazers we had to wear at school.

"Er, hi Ste. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks, Uncle Tony. Come in." I move to the side letting him walk past.

It feels a bit weird, seein' him – it's been ages. I try to think back to the last time I saw him. Was a few weeks before I left home wiv the twins. I shudder and shake me head, don't want to think about that anymore, right. That's all over now innit? Things are proper good now.

"Thanks." He looks around the hallway as he enters. "Nice house your…er…friend has here."

Friend? Bren aint just my friend. But I don't correct him. He knows.

"Brendan. Yeah, he's done well for 'imself. Bit of a business man like you, eh?"

"Yeah." Tony agrees as his eyes dart from me to around the hallway.

We kind of stand there in silence for a moment, neither of us really knowing what to say. It's an odd situation for both of us. Usually our conversations are in me Mam and Terry's flat based on what they have messed up on lately and how the twins are.

To break through the awkwardness I take him through to where Bren is stood ready to greet 'im. The twins run up to 'im and wrap their arms round 'im.

"Uncle Tony!" Lucas shouts.

"Hey munchkins. How are you both?" He says lookin' at 'em wiv a genuine smile on his face.

"We are good. We've been having an adventure with Ste! It's been fun but I like this second bit best of all - staying here at Mr Brady's house it's nice and warm and there's a lot of food McDonalds and everything," Leah replies.

Tony looks up at Bren and holds out his hand.

"Brendan, I'm Tony. Ste's Uncle," he says, straightening himself up.

"I've heard a lot about ye," Bren replies shakin' his hand.

"Er, right. Er, thanks for inviting me over, we were all so worried about Ste and the twins. We didn't know where they were stayin'."

"They've been safe, here with me."

"Right, Yes. That's good."

Bren is lookin' at him intently, like he tends to do when he meets new people. It's as though he's tryin' to figure 'em out. Work out if he can trust em or not. It seems to make Uncle Tony a bit uncomfortable. He starts lookin' around the room. Anywhere but at Bren.

"Right, who wants some nibbles, eh?" I say interrupting the awkwardness.

"Good idea, Steven." Bren says not takin' his eyes off Tony.

"Er, yes, that sounds lovely Ste. Thank you." Tony looks at me gratefully.

I go to the kitchen and let outta breath I didn't realise I was holdin'. Bren can seem pretty intimidatin' when you first meet him. But it was his idea to invite Tony over so he's gonna play nice. Don't wanna leave 'em too long though, right.

"Here, we go." I say placin' some bits I made on the coffee table.

Bren is sat with Leah and Lucas either side of him whilst Tony is on the other couch. I sit next to him.

"So, Tony," Bren leans forward slightly, "Steven said you've been away."

"Er, yes I went on holiday for a couple of weeks. That's why I didn't know Ste had left with Leah and Lucas. I only found out when I got back and went round to see them."

I sit and listen while Bren and Tony chat. Tony seems to have relaxed a little and Bren is bein' the welcomin' host. The convo seems to be flowin' ok. The kids are 'appy to see 'im. But they don't know him. Not really. Not like I do.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:**

Thank you so much to everyone, welcome to all our newbies and big waves to all those who are de-lurking!

We're glad you've all enjoyed the Brady-Hay family, we really enjoyed writing them :D

That said we're also really glad that 99.9% of you have asked for angst! We hope we can satisfy your appetites – the darkness is looming! We are both very excited, if a little afraid of all your responses – just remember if you kill us there won't be anybody who can make it all alright again ;)

**Chapter Warning:**

The angst is nigh.

Chapter Twelve – Brendan Brady.

Steven is an incredible cook. Although he won't ever take the compliment. It's taken him less than three hours to prepare this entire meal, including a perfect crème brulee. He brushes it off like it's nothing. I think he should own his own business one day. Maybe a small café, or delicatessen, a place where I can go, keep an eye on him and eat a lot of jam sandwiches – seedless of course. Cos even his sandwiches are a masterpiece.

The meal goes really well, Tony seems like a nice guy if a bit soft. Probably why he didn't realise what was happening to Steven. I know how impossible it is to believe a member of your family could do something like that, you know?

Steven sits next to his uncle. I sit in between the kids – help Lucas with chopping up his food and Steven keeps catching my eye - smiling like that.

"Mr Brady!" Leah tugs on the sleeve of my shirt. "Can you cut my food up too please?"

"Haha! Mr Brady likes me better! He cut up my food and not yours!" Lucas jeers her.

"No he doesn't! He likes me better don't you Mr Brady?" Leah says hopefully looking up at me all innocent, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Oi, you two" Steven interrupts before I can say anything. "Mr Brady likes ya both the same, right. Lucas, stop teasing ya sister and eat. Leah, the only reason Mr Brady didn't cut up ya food is coz he thought you were able to do it by yaself, ok?"

She nods enthusiastically, crosses her arms and looks smugly at Lucas as though she has got one over him this time. Lucas is now scowling back at her.

Suddenly out the corner of my eye I see a pea flying across my face as Lucas flicks it with his fork at his sister. Leah giggles as it lands on her plate. I look over at Steven and Tony who haven't noticed. Leah picks the pea up and flicks it back to Lucas. It hits him on the nose and lands on the table next to his plate. They both start giggling.

Steven and Tony look over at the giggling twins.

"What's so funny you too, ey?" Steven asks.

"Nothing Ste." they answer in unison.

Steven shakes his head and turns back to Tony. As he does, Leah and Lucas start subtly throwing peas at each other across me. One lands on my lap. The twins both stop immediately and gasp then look up at me apprehensively as though they are going to be in trouble. I keep my reaction unclear and slowly pick the pea up off my plate, hold it up and look at it. I turn and smile at them then nod towards Steven. They both nod their heads enthusiastically and giggle.

I flick the pea hard at Steven and it lands on the side of his head then falls to the floor.

"Ey, that the hell was that?!" he exclaims rubbing the side of head and looking to the floor. He sees the pea and looks up at us.

"Right, which one of you lot did that?!" he asks.

Me, Leah and Lucas all look at him shaking our heads.

"Weren't me!" says Lucas

"It wasn't me neither, I wouldn't throw my food." Leah smiles.

"And it certainly wasn't me, Steven." I say trying to keep a straight face but feeling myself smirking slightly.

As he looks me questioningly his mouth turns into a big grin, laughter dancing behind his eyes and he knows it was me.

We share this secret communication over the table, I feel a foot rub at my ankle and I just know from the way my skin sparks that it's him. I can still taste him from earlier, see the way his eyes flashed and opened, he truly opened for me. He turns back to his uncle, and I'm placed right back into reality again. I take a drink of the whiskey to cover up the sting - I have to keep reminding myself what this meal is about, we can have as much fun as we like but there's only one purpose to this whole thing.

This is goodbye.

***K&M***

Steven takes the kids to bed and it gives me and Tony a chance to chat shop. His face blanches and he shakes as I recounted what Steven told me – all of it.

It's clear Tony didn't know a thing. I give him a moment, and some of my finest - the whiskey calms his stress so I say, "You seem like a decent man Tony, you and I both know those three kids can't be separated."

He nods quickly, still recovering.

"So I reckon you could take care of them all can't you?"

"Erm…But Pauline-"

"You're gonna get them away from here, get a manager for that restaurant of yours, take them away and give them the childhood they deserve. Steven needs to be a teenage boy, not a carer for the twins, or a – a slave," or the fuck-toy of a middle aged gangster. "He needs to get out and see the world and you can make that happen can't you?"

"You just expect me to leave Chester? At Christmas? My friends, my family-"

"Your family – your family that lets this happen to your nephew? That could have let it happen to those precious twins. I think _they're_ your family now: Steven, Leah and Lucas – you know you need to take them away from here."

He nods like he understands, but his face is still in shadow and I feel for this man I really do – it must be hard to be the one stood back watching, but he has to be strong for Steven now. He has to be strong instead of Steven. Out of nowhere an image of the three kids huddled under that blanket in the shelter shivers through me – and I feel my heart drop the way it did when Steven collapsed to the floor that afternoon. I shake it back, tonight's dinner, now is my only role – the only thing I can do for Steven, I have to make it count.

"Erm...yeah," Tony says. "Erm there is a place, away from here, Southport, we could go there, but this sort of thing – what you're suggesting, erm…it takes erm cash."

"I have cash."

His eyes catch mine and there's this expression, I'm not sure what it means or what he's trying to say but it's not exactly close to what I was expecting. It's gone in a flash, disappeared into another empty whisky glass. And then he's looking at me with gratitude, knowing I'm saving his family.

"How much do you need?"

"Erm…I dunno, I mean we'd need to find a house, get some food, employ a manager, and you know my restaurant doesn't make a great turnover." He's rambling, but I've already thought this all through – I know how much I can get my hands on in short notice.

"Eighty grand?"

There's that look again.

"Yeah," Tony coughs. "Yeah eighty grand would be good, would see us through you know until I can get a job."

"I'll give Steven a suitcase of the cash tomorrow, get him to the train station, and then you get them out of this city – tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"That's my deal – you take Steven, the twins and the eighty grand tomorrow, or I'll go to the police – tell them everything."

Tony nods, "OK, OK yeah we can make that happen."

We firm up the details, decide on the train and I tell him my chauffeur will drop the kids off at 10.30. I take him to the door. Steven gets down just in time.

As he gives his uncle a hug goodnight Tony says, "I'll see you and the twins at the train station tomorrow."

"Eh?" Steven asks, excited to see his uncle again so soon.

Tony turns to me and says, "thanks again Brendan, erm don't forget the money yeah? Sorry we just can't really do it you know erm without the money."

"What money? What's going on?"

There's a dark cloud of confusion growing in Steven's eyes. And, as Tony tells him what's happening, his entire face grows black, he won't stop staring at me like – like his world is ending.

***K&M***

Tony leaves when Steven's still pale and shaking. I get him a glass of water, sit him down and go to the safe for the money from my last deal. He doesn't say anything until I place the full suitcase opposite him. He doesn't say a lot of sense even then. He gets more and more agitated. He gets up and starts pacing round the kitchen. Muttering to himself.

"Bren. Please just - just listen to me!" Steven is insistent.

"I am, Steven. But you're not making much sense. This is your Uncle we are talking about."

"An Uncle who's asked you for money!"

"Yes, to take care of you all."

"No Bren! Something isn't right. Tony wouldn't do that, just come out with it. Ask you for money so he can look after us."

"Kids cost money, Steven!"

"Don't you think I know that! You're not listenin' to what I'm sayin' Bren!" he almost screams at me. His breathing rapid and fists clenched.

"I am Steven. Just calm down, yeah." I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder.

"No! Don't tell me what to do! You don't get to do that! You don't give a shit about me!" he shrugs me off.

I pinch the top of my nose and take a breath.

"You know that's not true, Steven." I say quietly, glancing up into his eyes.

He's still looking at me accusingly. His brow is furrowed and his pupils dilated with anger.

"Well listen to me then!" He says taking a step towards me.

"Ok. Ok. I am listening." I say calmly.

This seems to appease him slightly, his muscles relax, his shoulders visibly drop.

"I just don't get it, right," he sighs. "Somethin' don't feel right about him askin' you for money. I mean, he's a pushover, never says no to anythin', always does what mam and Terry tell 'im to so the fact he would come 'ere, say he's gonna take care of us and ask you for money just don't seem like him."

But he didn't offer to take them, did he? It was me. I asked him.

"Maybe he's grown a backbone." I consider. "Maybe he just realised he couldn't take care of you all without some help. And so bit the bullet and asked."

"Yeah and maybe he just wants your money." Steven snorts.

"He seemed pretty genuine, Steven."

"How would you know though, right? You don't even know 'im. You met 'im for like a few hours and ya think you know 'im better than me!"

Steven's right, you know. I don't know him. But I did ask him. He could have said no. But he didn't. He said he needed some help financially.

"I'm not saying that I know him better than you. All I'm saying is he seemed like he cared and that he wanted to take care of you."

"Why though, eh? Why does he want us?"

"Because he's your Uncle! Because he's family and wants to take care of you!"

Steven puffs his cheeks out and crosses his arms. I don't know what else to say to him. Tony will look after him. I can't. They can't stay here with me no matter how much Steven protests. Even if my family could ever understand, even if Chez would accept my relationship with a boy who was six years older than my son, even if me and Steven could have a 'relationship' – what sort of life could I offer Steven? Not one that's worth living. Not the one he's so deserving of.

I am so familiar with the place he's at right now - so young at this life altering crossroads. I know these next few events will shape him into the man he will be. The path I took changed me for a lifetime, but the choices made for me were wrong. I was manufactured into the monster I am and I didn't even know half of it was happening.

So he has to do this. This has to happen - regardless of the pain in his eyes and how that pain is almost enough to sever my heart. This is the only right turn.

"It's been sorted." I say gently. "Tony has agreed for you and the twins to live with him. And it's only Southport – it's not a million miles away."

I can only hope it's far enough.

"It's been sorted, Steven."

"Sorted?! How can it be sorted?! You didn't even ask me!" he shouts angrily.

"Tony and I talked about it this evening when you were putting the kids to bed."

"This evenin'?! So you were just chattin' away and Tony randomly says 'Hey Brendan, why don't I take Ste and the twins off your hands, look after 'em. Oh and can I 'ave eighty grand?' Just like that." he says sarcastically.

"No, Steven. Not just like that. He wasn't the one who asked!" I blurt it out and I can feel him pause and take in what I've just said.

He looks at me and a realisation hits him hard – you can almost watch it happen, like it crashes against him and knocks him down.

"You? _You asked him_?" he growls through gritted teeth. "He didn't offer, _you_ asked him."

"Steven, look-"

"What? Come on, what Bren?" he exclaims throwing his hands up in the air. "The idea just came to you over your medium-rare steak?"

"No, it didn't just come to me all of a sudden!" I say before thinking about what this will mean to him.

He pauses as an agonized look spreads across his face as he takes in and comprehends what I just divulged.

"You had this planned?" he asks me quietly. "You had planned on asking him?"

He takes a step backwards.

"How long have you been thinking about this? Since I spoke to the elf? Since I asked you for the eight foot tree? No, it was before that wasn't it - it's why you wanted me to ask 'im over for dinner in the first place isn't it?!" he cries.

I stay silent, looking at him. Searching his face for some kind of understanding. Anything that means he understands why I had to do this. I thought I saw it before, when I fucked him against the bedside mirror – I thought I saw him saying goodbye.

"Isn't it, Bren?!" he commands.

"Yes." I quietly nod.

The pain of my confession spreads across his face – his brow is lowered and his nose is wrinkled. The skin around his eyes is drawn tightly and his lips are parted. As though my words have caused him actual physical pain.

"You never intended for us to stay did you?" he says tears forming in his eyes, "you made me think we were going to be here for Christmas! As a family!"

"I didn't ever say that, Steven." I say sadly.

"But this week! You let me decorate a tree, our tree! You took the kids to see Santa. You never said we _wouldn't_ be here!"

The tears are slowly running down his cheek. He uses the sleeve of his hoodie in an attempt to wipe them away.

"You'll be O-"

"You even made love to me!"

That word drops like a bomb.

"I… what?"

Since when has that deadly four letter word ever been breathed between us? When did the lines of casual fuck get blurred in his head? Did I know that had happened? Why do I feel like we made that significant change together, and that it was way before this week?

"Don't you make out like you didn't right." He says, "earlier? It was different cos you made love to me!"

"No, no I'm sorry Steven that didn't happen. And you even said you knew, and that you were gonna be OK – you and the kids."

"I said we were gonna be OK – you and me. Cos it's scary, cos it's love. It is love Bren, this right, it's love," he's taking hold of my hands now, but I shake him off – I can't be in love with someone who's young enough to be my son. I can't be in love with someone like him. "Please just tell me – what did I do? Why don't you want us here? Why don't you want me? What 'ave I done wrong?"

"It's not like that! You haven't done anything wrong." I can't stand to see the pain on his face – I reach out and gently wipe away his tears. "Of course I wanted you here. I wouldn't have asked you to stay if I didn't want you here. But-"

"But what?" He chokes past his tears. "You wouldn't 'ave asked Tony to take us if you wanted us. If you wanted me."

"I can't take care of you, of the twins. I can barely look after myself and you and the twins need stability. Need somewhere you can be safe and not get caught up in everything I'm involved in."

"I'm already involved in the kind of things you're involved in!" He exclaims

I smile sadly at him. Sometimes it feels like he is the only one in this world who knows me, who can truly see me, into me and what I want to be. Other times, times like now, it is obvious that he is blinded to the shadows of my soul, I know he can't see the shape of the monster I am.

Almost impulsively my head starts to shake slowly.

"I've been dealing drugs for two years innit?!" He insists, "with your business partner!"

I place my hand back over his cheek, smooth skin; smooth, _innocent_, skin.

"Is that," Steven starts still formulating solutions in that head of his. "Is that it? I know you're worried about Mr Fox finding out right? I know that scares you, but it will be OK, it will be OK as long as we're together, you and me."

"Steven-"

"It proper will."

I press my thumb to his lips, his beautiful lips, silence his words – something that earlier today I thought I would never want to do.

"Steven, you don't even know who I am."

He stares at me like I've just taken the fabric of his dreams and ripped it into shreds. Like I've chucked him a grenade at the final second. Like I've murdered something that was starting to grow. It's a moment of deadly silence before he starts again.

"This, what you're saying, it's more than just us leavin here, innit? You're saying it's over, you and me, us, you're saying-"

"There never was any us," I tell him, because there never could have been could there?

I walk away from him. I can't stand to witness any more of the warzone I've left him in. I don't even turn back when he sinks to the floor. I already know what it feels like to be looked at as though you're a murderer.

***K&M***

We don't sleep together that night. We don't talk, there are no more words or touches. About four hours afterward I find him in one of the spare rooms. He's looking at a photo frame of me and the boys, but he hides it as soon as I come in. He knows I've never minded him looking at my stuff – but that's not what he's hiding is it? His thoughts are what he doesn't want me to see.

I nod at him just once and he attempts a smile. I say attempts – it's like it's a child's water colour. I've left him so weak.

I wait for him in our bed, I don't mean to fall asleep but I do with my reading light on and my book on my chest. When I climb out of bed at six in the morn I find him still in that room, with that photo frame, he's fallen asleep in that suit I rented him.

I go for a shower, my movements are habitual, my thoughts solid. I'm entirely numb. He will leave me in the state he found me.

As I walk back into the kitchen I can hear Leah and Lucas' happy chattering, smell the scents of Steven's cooked breakfast – this is what I was offered, the domesticity I'm giving up. I have to. If you knew my life you would understand, you would know that I have no choice.

***K&M***

I don't know how he does it – continues to look at Leah and Lucas like the world is a beautiful place when I can see what he's like inside, when I know he's doubting the very existence of humanity. Every accidental eye contact shows me the warzone he's in. Shows me the disaster he thinks he's facing. But all this is is goodbye – goodbye for a happier life, a normal life. A teenage boy who's lost everyone should be with their family and I _know_ that. I know that with every regret inside me.

At the front door the twins both hug me and thank me - they don't even need Steven's prompt to do it this time.

In fact Leah even says, "Ste don't be rude, thank Mr Brady!"

He smiles at her, strokes a hand over her golden hair and says, "we've already talked princess."

"Steven-" impulsively, selfishly, foolishly, disgustingly I try to stop him on the way out of the door.

He sticks his hand out to me for a shake as though I'm a stranger – like he did the very first time we met. My fingers interweave his and he stares at our touch, thinking no doubt of everything we've been through these last few days - the changes I made for him, because of him. A bitter ugly laugh leaves his lips. It rings even when the door closes me in alone with my monster.

Do I wait for him to come back? Possibly. I do know that it's him at the door. I know the pattern of his knock now.

Foolishly I let him in. And as soon as I do he starts talking, words scrambling, playing with the jigsaw of our lives as though their union is not impossible.

"You said, yesterday you said you're used to pushing this stuff away and that's what you're doing now, and you're just doing this cos right now it feels easier innit? It's not what you want though is it? I know – I know you. And I know this is difficult but you aint gonna be happy if I go. And you don't need to worry or owt - we don't need looking after. I can look after the twins meself and I will get a job and that. Just this, this it don't have to be over."

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. It would be so easy to just give into the boy. To acknowledge his pleas and do what my heart is telling me. He's not giving up. But I have always forced myself to follow my head. It stops things getting….messy. Your head can't be damaged in the same way your heart can. And I've got to think of Steven and the twins. I'm not good for them.

"I'm no good for you, Steven."

"But you are. Right? You are. Look at everything you've done for us, yeah. We'd still be on the streets if it weren't for you!"

He's pleading with me, I have to be strong. I have to let him go.

"No. You're going. I can't have ye here any longer."

He's looking at me with a desire I'm trying to resist, a need for me to say it's ok. I grab his collar with both hands and gently push him backwards until he hits the hallway wall.

"I love you!" He exclaims.

He screams that word that dropped like a bomb last night. That word that detonated in our faces as he held it up against our sex and showed me that it fitted. With that one syllable he showed me that we were doing more than fucking, more than shagging and screwing and every degrading label I had ever given it. That we meant….But I can't think this now -

"Shut up, please just –"

He leans in and kisses me. I pull back and almost whimper "No."

I take a sharp intake of breath as I'm looking towards the floor. I can't look at him. I don't trust myself not to give into his pleas. My forehead is resting against his. I try to steady my breathing, to not be drawn to him even though every cell in my body is screaming out for me to kiss him back. It's more than just the beat of my heart. I can actually feel his eyes on me, pleading me to look up into them. I can't. Looking into that sea of blue will pull me in. Pull me into his soul and I won't be able to stop myself. My weakness fights through. I can't help but glance upwards. And I can see his every emotion right there on his face, in his eyes. The torment of not understanding why I am doing this, the hurt caused by him thinking I don't want him. It breaks me to feel that hurt radiating into me. That I am the one causing him pain now.

I can't help but touch him. My hand automatically reaches up to touch him, to feel his warm skin. My fingers are gently touching his cheek. My hand slides back so my fingers are on the back of his head. Pulling him towards me. I lean in closer. Pause for a fraction of a second then my resolve dispels and I lean in and kiss him deeply and god it feels incredible. He feels incredible. His lips mould onto mine like they were made to fit there. He kisses me back with such passion and, and love, it nearly destroys me and it takes all my strength to pull back from it. I drop my hand from his head and look at the floor. Our foreheads barely touching.

I inhale sharply and pull myself together.

For his benefit.

I'm shattering into a million pieces inside.

"That was goodbye," I say trying to sound like I mean it. Solid and formidable.

I see the look of confusion in face, the hurt in his eyes and hear him whisper "What?" Then "No!"

I look at him briefly. "Get out my face!" I shout.

It's for the best.

"No," he pleads.

I use my hand to push him away from me and firmly say "Go! Now!"

He leaves and I feel like I am about to collapse. I slump backwards against the wall, my head falls back against it. I look upwards, almost as though I'm asking God for some fortitude, trying not to crumble into pieces.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:**

Thank you so so so so so much for the extra amazing response for the last chapter you angst lovers you! We were both crazily chuffed :D

Seeing as this chapter links with the last one we're giving it to you extra early. It starts in the middle of the end of the last chapter, the Stendan scene in Brendan's kitchen – get it? And the end is sort of a 'preview' in a way of what happens next – a flash forward as it were – oooh how posh :P

RL sucks :( we've got yet another busy time ahead of ourselves – Kabr's turn to holiday herself this time so it's probably only gonna be one a week for a bit, we will be back to writing at full force soon though (and this is an extra long chapter to make up for it)!

**Chapter Warning:**

The angst hath commeth.

Chapter Thirteen – Steven Hay.

"Steven, you don't even know who I am," he says pressing his thumb to my lips.

But I do know him! I know who he is, right! I know he's involved in some dodgy shit but it don't matter to me. I know the little things too - he likes strawberry jam and it has to be seedless. I know he likes strong coffee in the mornin' with three sugars. I know he likes whiskey and his favourite is that Irish one. What's it called? Jameson's. Yeah that's it. See, I do know him! I know he likes listening to Johnny Cash. I know he loves his boys more than anything. And I know he feels it too, when he sweeps my fringe off my face and looks right into my eyes. At least I think he does.

As I'm staring at him there's this silence and I see it. And it hits me, proper hard, and forces me to take a little step backwards.

"This, what you're saying, it's more than just us leavin here, innit? You're saying it's over, you and me, us, you're saying-"

"There never was any us." he interrupts emotionless.

He turns and walks away. Just fuckin' walks away! Leaves me standing there feelin' like my whole word has come crashin' down again.

***K&M***

After hours of silence I can't stand it no more and go up to one of the spare rooms. I find a photo of Bren and the boys on the chest of draws. The boys are both smilin' and although Bren is too I can see the smile hasn't quite reached his eyes and I wonder when this was taken. I pick it up and stare at it, images of me and the twins appear in the photo with them, all of us smiling. Bren has his arm round me and the kids are huddled next to each other and we all look proper 'appy.

The image disappears as Bren walks in and I quickly hide the frame. We attempt a forced smile at each other and he leaves the room. I lie down and hug the photo proper tight. I feel tears start to well up in me eyes. I don't know how but I manage to fall asleep.

When I wake in the morning, alone in the spare room I know I have to put a proper brave face on for the twins, like I always have. I can't break down in front of them. I get them up, pack some stuff and make them some breakfast. I explain we are off to stay with Uncle Tony for a bit. On the doorstep the twins both thank Bren and hug him. Leah tells me off for being rude and not thanking him too.

"We've already talked, princess." I say, stroking her hair protectively.

I hear him say my name but I just turn towards him without eye contact shake his hand. Staring at our touchin' hands I feel the electricity shoot between us. But then everything about the last few days comes rushin' back and as I let go as a crazy laugh escapes my lips.

I get the kids in Bren's car that's waitin' to take us to the train station to meet Uncle Tony. As I finish strappin' them in something makes me walk back to the house and I knock on the front door. Bren opens it quickly and I know he's been standin' there waitin' to see if I come back.

I open me mouth and the words just start tumblin' out. "You said, yesterday you said you're used to pushing this stuff away and that's what you're doing now, and you're just doing this cos right now it feels easier innit? It's not what you want though is it? I know – I know you. And I know this is difficult but you aint gonna be happy if I go. And you don't need to worry or owt - we don't need looking after. I can look after the twins meself and I will get a job and that. Just this, this it don't have to be over."

"I'm no good for you, Steven," he argues.

I try and convince him he is, convince him that we'd still be out on the streets if it weren't for him. But he's not listenin'! He's not gettin' it! So it just comes out, I say it loud to make sure he hears.

"I love you!"

He just stares at me for a moment then says, "Shut up, just-"

No, I aint havin' that! Not after everythin'! He's the only one who's ever let me talk and has wanted to hear what I have to say so I'm gonna shut him up this time. I lean in and kiss him hard on the lips.

He pulls back and I almost hear him whimper. He's lookin' at the floor and I will him to look up at me. When he does, I don't know what I can see in his eyes. Why is he doin' this?! I don't understand why he don't kiss me back. Then his fingers touch my face before his hand slides to the back of my head and he pulls me in for a kiss. A deep passionate kiss and it feels amazin' when his lips are on mine and he's ownin' every part of my mind. I can't think of anythin' else but him.

He pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead against mine, before lookin' towards the floor and saying three words which nearly destroy me.

"That was goodbye."

What? No?! I don't get it! It's not goodbye!

He looks up at me and shouts, "get out my face!"

"No…." I plead with him.

"Go! Now!" He says pushin' me away from him.

I walk out the front door and towards the twins in the car. I get in as confusion completely takes over. I thought he wanted me, wanted us.

As we drive off I look out the window at the house getting' smaller in the distance. I can hardly make out what the twins are sayin' to me as we make our way to Tony. I look at Leah and Lucas and they've both stopped smiling.

***K&M***

We get to the station and when I see Tony I can just see that something's not right. It's in his posture or something, like his shoulders are hunched.

I leave the twins lookin' at toys in Smiths as I go to talk to him – he'll tell me what's up. He always does.

And then, when I make me way over to him, I see him. Not Tony.

Terry.

He's here.

We aint gonna be nowhere near safe.

I'm panicked more than surprised. If Tony was safe he would have got us out before – he wouldn't have left me with Terry when he knew. I tried to tell Bren when I knew what he had planned, but he don't care about any of us no more. I can't let the twins go back to Terry, I know what he were planning. So I think on my feet and get us out of there.

To get em away from the station I play tag with 'em. Run up the road before I know where we were going. But I think about it and I remember the only place that was safe when things were really dead bad.

***K&M***

Now we're sitting waiting in this big brick building. I guess we're in like a waiting room thing but there are barely any toys unlike in a dentist or a doctors or something - so I help the twins make paper airplaines to try t' stop 'em getting bored. Lucas was already complaining we had to walk up a big 'ill to get here. There's a woman behind a desk surrounded by glass – Leah thought she was like a robot when we first got 'ere, she got all scared. And the room she's sitting in is proper odd, it's like surrounded with glass. The phone keeps ringing and stressing her out, she seems nice enough though.

I've never been here before. Though I met a lady from here once when I was at primary, like mainly when Leah and Lucas were nearly here and just born and that. She was nice that lady. She used to come and see me at school and she worked out I liked art so we'd do drawings together and stuff. And she'd ask me loads'a questions about my family and that. She said if I was ever scared I could come 'ere and she gave me a phone number. Not sure the same applies now that I'm older but I'm here really for the twins. Another woman like her came to see us and all, like a couple of years ago when Leah's arm got broke. She weren't too fussed about me then but spent a while with Leah, meant she got to miss PE which she was dead happy about. Stressed Mam and Terry out loads though but they don't talk to me about things like that – Terry says it'd be a waste of time.

Leah and Lucas came from Mum real early. Leah loves being told that – that she was fast even at birth. It was a pretty hard time though. They had to stay in hospital for like a long time and Mum was really sad, she wanted a load o' gear to get her through so that's when I had to start stealin'; and Mam and Terry fought loads mostly about me. Sometimes I think if I were never here Terry wouldn't have been so stressed at Mam all the time and they wouldn't of fought so much and they might have been able to stay off gear and Leah and Lucas could have a proper normal happy childhood. Sometimes. But then I look at the scar on Lucas' wrist and those thoughts turn to anger. If I weren't here to protect them, no-one else would.

This woman comes out from behind this security padlocked door. She's about fifties, frizzy crazy red hair looks like wire, proper pale skin, massive thick rim glasses and a wart on her nose. The twins cower behind me, I give Lucas a look and he stops pointing at the ladies nose.

"Steve," she says, and I go to correct her but she's already half way along her next sentence, introducing herself. "I'm Ms Hayton, senior social worker, if you could come with me, Leanne and Luke should stay here."

Leah pulls at my sleeve to try to stop me leavin' but I just try to smile at her – reassuring like. This'll make stuff better won't it?

We go into this literally box room. It's tiny and the table is tiny and plastic and the chair is broken and there's this dead bad smell. She makes me coffee which just tastes of dirty water and I miss Brady's machine. She asks me why I'm here and then stares at me, proper stares at me. So I tell her about Tony and how when we got to the station Terry was there and how Tony always knew Terry wasn't safe cos he saw those scars when he took me swimming but then he did nothing. I don't tell her owt 'bout Brady, none of her business, 'spec' seeing as he wants to be none of ours. And I think, between me and you, that I'm a little bit scared about what she'd make of him and whether he'd get into trouble; y'know cos I were sixteen when we started and y'know cos of the suitcase of money and how that was made.

I tell her what's going on at home, with the drugs and the stealin and the hungriness and stuff. She keeps scribblin away on this notepad, her pen going proper fast and I can't real make out what any word says. She begins to look at me like she's already heard enough so I don't tell her about those men, and the guy with the knife - the stuff that wasn't sex, though that's the real reason why I had to take my sis and bro away.

When I stop and her pen stops she says, "so you're-" and she flicks through papers for a bit- "seventeen?"

"Yes ma'am, eighteen next September," I don't really know why I feel the need to add that.

She sighs, looks proper stressed, and says, "do you have somewhere to go tonight?"

And I get the feeling that the wrong answer would be 'no', y'know even if that were the truth. So I lie and tell her I do and she smiles at me – I think that's the first time she actually proper smiles at me.

She says all these words I don't understand – starts talking about court and law and stuff but I was never good at all that so it kinda goes over my head.

She stands up collects all her notes together and says, "right lets go back to the twins so you can say goodbye."

***K&M***

I think I'd misheard her, at first. I mean why would I need to say goodbye to them – I'm the one that looks after em. She makes us wait for another dead long time in the waiting room, Leah and Lucas start to get hungry and I only have an orange I stole from Brady's this morning so I split it and give 'em half each. When the lady comes out it's with this man, who I swear is like a dwarf with glasses, without saying anything he reaches out to stroke Leah's hair and she shucks under my arm.

"So you do have somewhere to go tonight Steve, don't you?" The lady asks.

And I again get the impression the wrong answer would be no so I lie. They both smile at me – the man and the lady.

"Right well we'll be in touch about when you can see the twins – we'll try to make it before Christmas for a couple of hours but we can't make any promises. Thanks for the information. Let us know if you have any questions. You can go now."

What? I proper don't get any of this.

"OK sweeties," the lady says, bending down on her hands and knees in front of my bro and sis. "We have a lovely couple who can look after you for a bit, they've got a really nice house by the river you'll like that won't you? They'll be your foster parents."

***K&M***

I didn't know that was gonna happen.

Leah proper cried, asked me why I didn't love her anymore. Lucas just went dead quiet, wouldn't let go of my hand.

I didn't know that was goodbye.

They're my bro and sis right? If I knew it was goodbye I wouldn't have let it. I mean I guess they're safe now. I guess they're better now innit?

Course they are it's just – I didn't know that were goodbye.

But they gone now, gone to live with that lady what was her name? Like Mrs O'connor yeah. She seemed pretty cool and said she was excited for Leah and Lucas to go and live with her and her husband. She looked proper mummsy, blonde hair in a ponytail, flowers on her dress – mam never looked like that. I think they'll be OK there. And she even made Leah smile when all I could do was make her cry.

But what about me – what about me now? Everything I've ever done was to protect 'em. So now they're not here I do…what? I guess I didn't think they'd look after me too, well not really. Though Mrs O'Connor had real kind eyes. I just thought that wouldn't be goodbye.

It's dead cold now. Rains proper come in, which is OK cos none of these strangers in the street know I'm crying. But it's dead cold. I didn't notice it before, but the cold's got right through my jeans and my jacket –these clothes Brady bought me.

I still know he didn't want us to go, not really. He looked like he wanted to be sad but couldn't remember how so was just being angry cos it's easier.

But he wanted me to live with them before didn't he? Like back when he didn't know about the twins – he wanted me to be the boys' nanny. And that was before everythin', before he really knew me and I knew him. Before all that that's made us closer - before this week and before he held my hand in the street, and looked after us, and before we made lo-

No he said I wasn't to call it that.

Whatever he wants from me I could do that now. Like be his nanny or whatever – now there's nowt to go home for and nowt to protect I could be whatever he wants of me. So I'll go and tell him, I'll go and say I accept his offer and then I won't go nowhere near him if he wants and I wont demand nowt and I'll give him the eighty grand back and tell him he can stop spending money. I mean he bought so much for me and the twins - we must have been dead expensive, so I wont even ask for nanny pay – got nowt to spend it on now anyway.

Yeah. That's what I'll do.

As I walk up the hill to Brady's house it's under a rainbow and that's like a sign of luck or sommit innit? Maybe this has always been the right thing to do.

***K&M***

My hearts like proper beatin' hard in my chest as I knock on the door. This woman answers it. She's like probably about thirty. She has a massive smile with dead red lipstick and crazy coloured eye shadow like green and pink. Lookin' at her makes me think about the way Brady looked when Leah put make up on him and my heart sort of squeezes a little.

I ask for Brady and she shouts for him. He yells back he'll be a minute. He sounds proper hassled, and I remember how I 'elped him relax – I can't help it.

The woman stops me from coming in - her hand like on the door when her others on her hip. She sort of tilts her head to the side – that expression I seen Brady do when he meets someone new. Her eyes like readin' me or sommit. She looks proper confident, but it's different from Brady's, hers like says she knows she's a good person.

"So, who are you?" she asks, she's got this Irish accent but it sounds different from Brady's.

"Ste…err I mean Steven, I'm the -" _boyfriend_ "- baby sitter," I say – silencin that voice inside me – he'd be dead angry if I said that.

Paddy walks past then, head in his Nintendo as always, lifts his head and smiles at me.

"Hi Ste, didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Ah I'm not really mate, just have something I need to talk to your Dad about. But soon though yeah?" I hope.

"Yes, I'd like that," he smiles – he's so polite 'e is, speaks proper good. I wonder if Leah and Lucas would be turning into that now they being looked after by the woman in the flower dress.

I look back at the blonde. She's playin' with this big necklace, it's proper odd cos it don't really seem to go with the rest of her. As in she looks dead posh but the necklace is kinda chavvy – like the sort of thing Mam would wear. It's fake gold and has the letters "OMG" like those stupid Essex people are always saying.

"I'm Cheryl Brady, I'm Brendan's sister." She says, sticking her hand out for me to shake. She sort of squeezes her lips together and narrows her eyes like she's try'na see something that's a bit blurry. She asks, "how long have you known my brother?"

"Errr I guess I've been like sitting for him since 'bout May."

Tenth of May. But I act as if I don't remember the exact date, like I could ever forget the day that started everythin'.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I say quick – I'm getting kinda defensive with the way she's lookin at me.

She's like starin' proper at me so I stare at her back.

"Steven," as soon as he says my name I feel a proper smile on my lips for the first time in 'ours.

I look at him and for a second he looks dead pleased to see me - his eyes are proper bright blue and there's a small smile pullin on his lips – you know that proper one. It's gone quick though, the smile, and when she looks at 'im it's dead gone.

"Thanks Chez," he says, as he pulls on his jacket.

He clasps me by the shoulder and takes me around the side of the 'ouse.

"What do you think you're doing back here Steven? Where's Tony? Where are the twins?"

It all comes out in one big rush – turning up at the station and Tony bein' with Terry and then taking the twins to the council and how I thought they'd wanna protect me too but Mrs O'connor didn't want me.

"So now like I don't have no-one," I say. "No family, no bro or sis, no-" _no you_, I don't say that.

He looks dead distressed. Blinks. And then looks proper angry, like he's pissed his plan didn't work. He paces a little. When he stops his head goes into his hands so I place my hand on his shoulder, try'na comfort him right? But he just shoves me off.

He turns on his heel slowly. He stares at the suitcase you know with the money in and blinks dead slow again. And then he looks at me like he's forgotten who I am.

"What can I do ya for Steven?"

He's proper scarin' me. Actin proper weird. So I do what I do when I'm nervous and say too much.

"I was thinkin' right, about that nanny thing, you know when you wanted me to stay 'ere and look after the boys and now Leah and Lucas are OK, you know, I can-"

My words stop though – just in the way he's starin' at me.

"We're done here," he tells me.

But we're so not, I can see how untrue that is every time he looks at me.

"You need to go, Steven," he says turning away from me.

I sniff like buildin' strength. He's proper closed off from me – but I won't let him.

"You do realise if I go, you're never ever gonna see me again?" I ask him.

I don't realise how 'orrible that sounds till I actually say it – I can't live a day without him let alone my whole lifetime.

"Have a nice life, Steven," he says like dead cold – but he's not like this. I know he cares about me, and I saw that look – earlier when he came to the door, the look like pure happiness. That's what he feels when he sees me – like actual happiness.

"No. I know you Brady, right that look then!" I insist, walking closer up to him, he tries to turn away from me but I step around him.

He just stays dead quiet but he's stopped moving away now. I can feel the 'eat of him so close to me. I can feel our chemistry buzzing in the dead air.

"Come on just ask me, just ask me to stay with you, you know that I will." I'm getting proper desperate now – I can't do this without him.

And I can see it, his 'eart, his proper thoughts – I can see past this big burly defence wall he's built. I can see he needs me as much as I need him. He'd know it too if he'd only look at me.

"Bren please just ask."

He sighs like proper deep and I think he's gonna walk away again but he turns to face me. Not properly though cos 'is eyes are still on the frozen ground.

We stay there for like what feels like hours, but probably not that long at all. It's like we stepped into a bubble and it won't matter if it starts pourin or nothin' cos we'd still stand here facin' each other but not properly facin' each other. Like we're pulled together and we can't release. It's like how it was before - you know when I touched him for the first time. Like he's try'na resist me but he's failin. It's that sort of intensity but more now cos I'm different and he's different, and we can be together now – properly. And I know, I just know, that he wants that too.

His eyes keep flashin up to my lips, my eyes, my lips and then back down at the ground again. He keeps doin it, again and again, and I feel like I can hear all the thoughts in his head. All the resistance and arguments but louder than those is how much he wants me, needs me, how he feels he can't live without me neither. I think about all the times we kissed, like I can see them in his eyes right? All of them, and those last few times when it meant more than kissin'. I know he felt as much as I did when our lips met this last week - he all but told me. So I'm just gonna do it. I'm just gonna kiss him cos he'll know then. He'll know we're meant.

I'm a little bit scared though, truth be told. I mean, today's been full of goodbyes hasn't it? And I don't want another and I think if he rejects me I won't be able to stop cryin everythin' away. Cryin in that way I do only with him. Cos that's what he does – makes me so close to emotion.

So I'm scared. I'm gonna do this, though. There's not owt that can stop me now.

I lean toward him kinda hesistant. I keep starin at his eyes just in case this is the wrong thing. But as soon as our lips meet he kisses me back. He does. It's fluid like he's drinking from me – cos that's what we mean to each other - everything.

He kisses me just once.

And then he pushes back and says my name in protest like he don't want this. But his forehead rests against mine, like it was after he was inside me that last time – you remember? Like he didn't wanna stop touching me. So I don't give him any space from me. I shake my 'ead, let him know it's OK, and we're like magnets or something cos he comes back to me.

He touches me. I can't believe it but his hand goes to my neck to pull me in for more – he wants me to kiss him! Doesn't want me to stop. In the moment are lips are dancing I'm so happy. My hearts like buzzin and poundin and singin. This is it! I know this is it. I cup his head and pull him in for more. This is what I dreamed of – a family Christmas and now we're together we can get Leah and Lucas back and be a proper family, for every day.

He's kissing me!

But…

He pushes me away.

With one hand on my shoulder he pushes me away. Pushes me proper away from him, and he won't look at me again. His eyes are like shut as he stares at the ground.

"Please," he says, and I can hear he's so scared, cos of all that stuff he told me – it's all so new for him. I know all of his doubts and all of his fears but everything will be OK won't it? As long as we're together, it will all be perfect.

"No, look it's OK," I tell him – cos it will be.

He looks at me like he wants to believe me, but his eyes get taken to the house behind him.

I step closer to him. I wanna tell him we can do this together. I go in for another kiss but he pushes me back. He pushes me like proper hard. And my foot gets caught on ice or sommit. I'm suddenly fallen down. My legs pulled back proper uncomfortable.

I'm proper winded. It takes a while to get my breath. I rub at my ankle, refusing the tears.

When I blink back to him he's lookin' at me proper worried. He steps closer to me, with a hand to pull me up but I'm not gonna take it now am I? When he don't want me to.

He don't want me nowhere near him, that much is obvious now. He don't want me cos I'm nothing. He sees me now and he knows I'm good for nothing, useless, thick, a waste of air. He knows all the stuff he's ever said about me was wrong – he knows I'm not dynamite. And he knows that all those things Mam and Terry have said about me are true.

I'll go back to it then. I'll go back 'ome. I was only ever kiddin' myself with all these dreams about me and Brady. All these dreams that I might be able to be somethin'. I'll take his money for Mam's drugs make her proper pleased of me and rob for 'em and do whatever else I can for money and be exactly the person I am. That person that's nothin'.

Cos I'm nothin' aren't I?

I get myself up, ignore his hand and pick up the bag. Limp off away from him.

"Steven, I'm sorry," he shouts from behind me but I don't even hear him.

***K&M***

A couple of days later I'm drinking the last of the fifty I stole from Terry in some sleazy back street bar – it's three o'clock in the afternoon and I'm just about to meet him – you know the bloke who changes the rest of my story. It's an Irish bar, I guess I might be try'na torture myself or sommit. But at least it means none of Terry's gang are gonna come in, the only people that are here are those that look like they spend their lives drinking. I've had six pints, or was that seven? It's enough to make the world a little fuzzy around the edges, and I'm laughing at the irony of havin' to go back to that shelter tonight – laughing at my stupidity, I really thought I was gonna be safe with Brady. I don't actually realise I'm laughin out loud though.

"Alright there?" This dead posh voice asks.

I look up and he don't look the sort to drink in here, he don't actually look the sort to drink in the middle of the day _anywhere_. He's wearing a suit and first off I think he might be a teacher or sommit – he has that sort of look.

I nod once, and hide back under my hoody.

"You were laughin' – wanna share the joke?"

"Not really," I say but he sits down anyway.

"Get you a drink?" He asks, and indicates over to the barman. This is a backstreet Irish bar right – it's not the sort to do table service but he must be known or sommit cos the barman brings us over two more pints.

"Look mate, I don't know what your problem is," I say "but I didn't mean to be laughin innit?"

"It's no problem. You look cute when you laugh."

We share five pints – he pays, and then he says he has a job offer. He makes it sound all alluring – offers me good pay, says I don't have to go back to the shelter, offers me a bed for the night and every night that I make him money. It's not the sort of job I wanna do, it's not the sort of job I would have ever considered doing _for myself_ before. Before Brendan Brady wrecked everything. But I don't have nothing to lose now. And anyway he seems like an alright sort – posh suit, good haircut and he has this kinda nice smile. So I said he changed my story right? Course I end up agreeing, and as we leave the bar together, he says.

"You never told me your name."

"Ste – Ste Hay."

He takes my hand and shakes it, firm like.

"Patrick Blake."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:**

Thank you guys! We love how close you're reading - you continually inspire and motivate us! Kabr's been barely able to keep away – even with her busy RL week, all down to you and your awesome words :D But life's still demanding that we take time away from Stendan so is still one a week.

We really hope you enjoy this chapter! This is like the second plot turn as it were so let us know :)

**Chapter Warning:**

Very angsty.

Scenes some readers may find disturbing (ha! I've always wanted to say that :P)

Chapter Fourteen – Brendan Brady

I worry about him every moment after he leaves with the twins. My chauffeur returns without a problem so I know they got to the station OK. But I can't stop thinking about them – worrying. Consistently. It's like I can feel something's not right.

The house is really quiet – like it can't get used to itself when he's not here. And even when Chez returns with the boys full Dublin-excitement it still doesn't feel right. And then he's here, on my doorstep, talking to Cheryl. He's here and his eyes are red like he's been crying, and I feel sick that something's hurt him again, that my protection has failed, again.

I promised him I'd always keep him safe and I feel so guilty.

And then Cheryl turns on her heel looks straight at me and I feel a new form of guilt work at the very centre of me, it's not new – it's been there my whole life. Just looking in her eyes I know she knows. And I know she's disappointed in me, yet again.

I get Steven away from the house and he tells me everything in one long row of jumbled words, like he always does. I can't make sense of a lot of it.

Until he breathes, "so now like I don't have no-one. No family, no bro or sis, no-" he stops like his words are broken.

I can't take this. If there was any justice on God's earth he, Steven Hay, would have everything. But he's been left broken by a world that doesn't protect him and I don't know what else I can do when there is more against us than all the power inside me.

I feel my heart struggling, not enough oxygen can get into my lungs and my thoughts blur – I hate this. Feeling out of control like this. I don't let myself feel like this anymore, it's this feeling that's left me with nothing but guilt. His hand presses against my shoulder as though he's trying to reassure me but all it does is cloud my thoughts because I want, no, I _need_ to pull him to me and keep him to myself.

As I turn to face him something snags my gaze, the suitcase I gave him – the suitcase with the money in it. There is a lot of money in that bag, there is enough for him to get set up. And he can get a good job, boy like him – he has good GCSE's. He will be alright by himself. He could make a good life for himself, but he will keep coming back here as long as he thinks there is something to come back to – so I have to, I have to close off from him.

"What can I do ya for Steven?" I ask.

He starts muttering about that nanny thing, like that would work now. Like if he lived here he could be anywhere but my bed. I am so weak around him, the moment I relent everything around us will unravel and fall apart.

I tell him to go and then he says, "you do realise if I go, you're never ever gonna see me again?"

And I can't breathe past those words, I can't take this. I know I have never felt like this before. Things leave my life easily, seasons pass and nothing stays. But if I don't see him again, if I'm not around to make sure he's OK, something inside me will wither never to regrow. Keeping Steven Hay under protection – it's become an instinct.

"Ask me to stay with you, you know that I will, Bren please just ask."

Before I know it he's kissing me, and I have to succumb - he is everything. I let my mouth cup around his, feel the yielding bottom lip between mine. I keep trying to resist but every time I do our kisses grow in passion, like we have an infinite pool of desire and it's only ever going to get deeper. He keeps telling me things will be OK, that we can be together. And I want to – I want to so bad. My eyes reach for him, my beautiful boy, but it's at that moment I see Cheryl.

She's stood in the kitchen window watching us. And just with the look in her eye I know I can't have this. Even if a life with Steven could be beautiful I wouldn't deserve a moment of it – a man like me.

He reaches for another kiss but I push him back. And I break him. He slips on the ice. He's in pain. My self-hatred is instantaneous. I reach out a hand for him, but he refuses. He doesn't say another word, he just walks away.

***K&M***

You probably won't believe me but I haven't thought about him these last two weeks - life has that Christmas bustle; and let's just say that forgetfulness is a skill I have had a lot of time to hone. Cheryl keeps nagging me, saying I need to spend more time with the boys when it's the holidays. Apparently she knows it's hard but they need me more now than before, like missing my Eileen is the only thing bitter about Christmas this year. I don't go into the room with the Christmas tree and I haven't taken a sauna for weeks. Thankfully things are frenzied down the Loft - demands are high as they always are during the holidays. So the business has a monopoly on my time. And as I say, I've not really thought about Steven since he left.

Had an unexpected call from Foxy yesterday, he's back from Vegas early. Guess he's not spending Christmas with Katy after all. They don't see each other often now, Katy wanted to get away from ending up involved in the life her big brother led. He never meant to, but she sometimes got caught up in it all.

I met Katy at school, she was my first girlfriend. We were inseparable and I really did love her. One day she introduced me to her big bro who offered me some work at his club. I thought he was just doing it as a favour to her but he must have seen something in me as I was soon allowed to get involved in his other 'business'. Just little bits of selling here and there but one day it changed.

My stomach knots as I think about that day. It's like my memory has put a cloud over it, so that I can't see it clearly. For months afterwards Foxy would clarify exactly what happened. When I think about what I heard it feels like I'm underwater. It's like I know what was said, Foxy told me what was said, but when I recall the words spoken they are muffled…

But I do owe him, I owe him a hell of a lot and will forever be indebted to him. He took me in when I was sixteen and had no-one else. We continued to work together and as I grew up we became more like partners. He knew I could be as ruthless as him when it came to business. He taught me well and along with my natural desire to govern, made me the perfect accomplice.

When Foxy called yesterday, fucking irate because some of his eejits have royally cocked up, he knew I was the man for the job. So now I find myself here on Christmas Eve, me and Foxy standing outside the door of a small warehouse whilst Chez is at home with the boys.

I find my thoughts impulsively drift to them, to 'home'. We used to have a tradition on Christmas Eve – we'd tuck the boys up in mine and Eileen's bed with warm milk and chocolate chip cookies. Then we'd read them 'The night before Christmas'. Me, Cheryl and Eileen would put on a bit of a show all doing different voices – I would be the narrator, clearly, and Eileen and Cheryl would always have a little squabble about who would be Santa. It was good fun. I hope Cheryl's read to them tonight.

Foxy and I are dressed head to toe in black and our guns are poised ready. I can hear voices inside and my breathing hitches, my heart starts racing. I can feel my muscles start to tense as the blood flow to them increases. My mouth goes dry and I can feel the first sheen of sweat start to dampen my forehead. God I feel incredible, I love this rush of adrenalin you get when your body is forced into a fight or flight response.

I get the nod from Foxy and we kick the door open, coming face to face with five shocked men and a holdall full of our cocaine that his minions managed to lose. It doesn't take much convincing for them to hand it over. Nothing more needed than the use of my fists on one of their faces. They aren't professionals just some part timers who thought they'd got lucky when they came across Foxy's eejits. I grab the bag, sling it over my shoulder and we start to leave. My phone starts ringing, and I see it's Walker. Shit. Steven.

Before I even answer I know what he'll say - something bad has happened to Steven. It's Christmas Eve, he wouldn't be phoning unless the boy was in real trouble.

Oh did I not mention, I had Steven followed? Of course I did – who sends that sort of money into the world without some fail safe? But Walker hasn't said much recently so I thought things were OK. Maybe I just needed to believe that, maybe I should have checked in.

"Simon. What is it? I'm busy," I answer once we are outside.

"I think you're gonna want to hear this." He replies. "It's Ste, he's in trouble, he's not in a good way."

I stop suddenly, almost frozen to the spot. My heart starts racing, I feel a slight shortness of breath and I can't focus. Fear courses through my veins.

I take a moment and keep the panic from my eyes, from my voice, knowing what one sign of weakness would mean to Foxy.

"Brendan, come on for God's sake! Let's get outta here!" I hear Foxy shout.

I shake my head and suddenly I'm focused. Focused on getting to Steven.

"Sorry Warren, I've got to go." I throw him the holdall. "Job's done anyway."

"Brendan, what the-"

"Sorry, I haven't got time to explain." I cut him off and give him the keys to the van.

"Walker? You still there?" I ask.

"Yes, mate." He answers on the other end of the phone.

"Stay where you are and tell me everything."

As Walker starts talking I pick up speed and I'm practically sprinting to my car. I need to get to Steven.

"I saw him chatting to some posh bloke in a bar," he starts. "He was getting the drinks down him at a right speed. All paid for by this bloke."

"Go on."

"It's like they were waiting for someone, the bloke kept checking his watch. About ten minutes later, another bloke turns up. Average height, pretty well dressed – jeans and a shirt, nothing out the ordinary. He shakes posh blokes hand, they clearly know each other. Then he introduced him to Ste. "

"Just a sec, Simon." I tell him.

I'm at my car now, which I left in a car park a couple of miles away from the warehouse. I fumble with my keys and pop open the boot. I take my black driving gloves off with my teeth and throw them in the boot, along with the gun which I wrap in an old tea towel and make a mental note to lock in the safe at the club later.

I quickly change my jumper, which is covered in blood from rearranging that idiot's face. I flex my knuckles which are starting to bruise slightly. I jump in the car. Put Walker on speakerphone and accelerate, tyres screeching, out of the car park.

"Ok I'm back, keep going."

"Right. So Ste slurs a hello to this bloke who looks him up and down before turning and nodding at posh bloke as though he approves. He then hands posh bloke a small wad of cash. Who in turn hands him like a business card with what I think was an address."

"Then what happened?"

"Posh bloke leans in and whispers something in Ste's ear then shakes other blokes hand again and leaves."

"So is Steven still at the bar?" I interrupt.

"No. Shit, I'm sorry Brendan. They left and by the time I got out the door I couldn't find them. I had a drive round and saw posh bloke driving up and down this road that I'm in now a few times but he drove off before going into one of the houses."

"Fuck!" I bang the steering wheel hard.

"I'm sorry Brendan, I can keep looking if you want."

"Don't bother, I'm nearly there now. Just go." I see my knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel hard.

I take a deep breath and try to think.

"Walker?"

"Yep? I'm still here."

"Was there anything else? Anything else you heard, like a name or something?"

"No, I don't think-" he pauses "Oh wait. Shit, yes, Ste slurred posh bloke's name at one point. Called him Blake. Patrick Blake I think."

I press down on the brakes hard and the car screeches to a stop in the middle of the road. It's been a while since I've heard that name.

***K&M***

**1983.**

Brendan is 15, Warren is 27.

"Blake, Patrick Blake," this small blonde kid shakes Ethan's hand.

Foxy, me and some of his other kids are sitting on the brick wall by Dee river, watching. Ethan's like the protector of our gang – his dad's a cop so he can check out details, make sure the kids not gonna grass us up. Kids from school come up to us and say they wanna be in with Foxy, happens pretty regular. But they don't turn up like this - in their school uniform with their shoes actually polished, and their tie actually knotted, and their jumpers actually straight. Moron. I mean I'm skivving too aint I? But I'm not going to do it looking like that. Warren leans over knicks a chip, shares a look – he's thinking the same.

"Blake, Patrick Blake - I'm James," Ethan says,

"Hi, James."

Ethan pauses a little and then says, "yeah James Bond."

"So you slept with my sister yet?" Warren asks, digging me in the ribs, I pretend they're not bruised – I don't want the questions.

I cough a little, down the last of the can of coke, and kick the wall, hard. Katy's hot she really is, but every time we go there I freak out. Can't believe she told her brother.

"Treat em mean, keep em kean, eh Brendan? good plan!" Eoghan stands up for me.

He keeps doing that. I can't remember a conversation I've had with the gang in the last fortnight that he didn't join in with, pretty odd. He gives me these looks in the school showers after sport as well – creeps me out with his weird ferret looking face. Me and Warren have started to call him eggnog behind his back.

I try to smile at him.

Warren jumps up off the wall, goes over to Ethan, clearly bored of their little serenade.

"Alright Ethan give the poor boy a break," Warren laughs, his voice sounds like he's innocent and friendly – that's when you really have to watch yourself.

Ethan takes a step back.

"I'm Warren Fox," he says, sticking out his hand to be shaken by Patrick. The kid takes it gladly like it's a million pound note. "You probably heard about me?"

"Err yes, I have, sir."

_Sir_? Me, Eoghan and Ethan all share a look – this kids gonna last all of two minutes.

"N'Aaw," Warren mocks, his hand scrapes Blake's hair, rubbing like you would a dog.

We all stand up – we know what's coming.

"You sound nervous of me," Warren sings his voice sickly sweet, "are you?"

Patrick nods and Warren laughs. Then quick as a flash he's grabbed the school tie, pushed Patrick back and tied him around the lamppost with it.

Warren leans close to Patrick's ear, like he's going to whisper, he obviously doesn't though.

"Good, you should be, I'm nuts!" Warren shouts at full volume.

And then we all run away.

I go back a couple of hours later though, find Patrick small and shaking. I release him. I threaten him – tell him that if ever tells Warren I saved him I'd stab him, I say I've done it before – he doesn't need to know it was to one of Cheryl's dolls.

***K&M***

**Present**.

I hang up on Walker, tell him to go home. I'm going to sort this one myself. Now I know who I'm dealing with.

Blake's bad news. After that day he grew some balls, started giving orders, got a little too big for his posh doc martins. Warren let him in and he believed he really was one of the tough guys. Really we all just laughed at him. We'd keep him around to do the leg work and the dirty jobs, until we found out what he was doing to that Anna he was knocking about with. Over the next couple of decades his name would keep cropping up on the dodgy deals, so I knew he was still a low life. And now he's got his claws into Steven – my Steven.

What is he doing with him? I don't even trust myself to think too much about it because every time I do I feel my heart tighten and my foot press far too hard on the accelerator. I keep hearing Walker's voice, what he described, some sort of business transaction:

_Ste slurs a hello to this bloke who looks him up and down before turning and nodding at posh bloke as though he approves. He then hands posh bloke a small wad of cash. Who in turn hands him like a business card with what I think was an address._

My heart constricts again - there's only one thing that sounds like that. I can feel the anger starting to bubble to the surface. I feel the tension in my jaw, my teeth grinding together with frustration. I have tunnel vision and the houses either side of me start to blur as I put my foot down.

I slow down as I realise I must have past the road Walker told me he saw Blake down. I reverse backwards ignoring the car behind beeping their horn at me as I reverse round them. I spot the road name and turn down into what looks like an average run down suburban street.

Its 1am and pretty quiet, a lot of the houses are dark and have no lights on. Most of them look like your average two bed terrace. I drive slowly looking at each house as I pass it. I don't see much apart from a couple kissing on a doorstep, two drunk girls searching for their keys to open the front door and a cat throwing up a fur ball on what is probably a neighbours wall.

I pull up to the curb, park the car, get out and cross the road. I can't hear anything suspicious, actually can't hear much over the sound of some awful trance music blaring out the open window of run-down looking end-terrace. I pass a house that has a small star-shaped light on in the window and next to it is a plate with a mince pie and a glass of Whiskey left out for Santa. There's also a carrot for the reindeer. It's Christmas Eve, even in streets like this. I keep walking until I stop at a house about half way down the road. It looks well kept, the small front garden is neat and house looks recently painted. For some reason it stands out a bit from the others. Looks less run down.

I try looking through the front window but the curtains are closed and I can't see anything except the faint glow of blue, maybe from a TV or something. I press my ear to the window but can't hear much, maybe a faint mumble of people talking. I gently push on the front door but it's locked. I need to get round the back so I jog to the end terrace and open the side gate making my way to the back garden. I quietly use the walk through, going through each back garden until I reach what I think is the house from the back.

I can hear faint music and as I walk towards the back door I realise its Christmas music. As I get closer I can make out a familiar rhythm, a chant. Fuck – it's that Wizzard song, you know 'I wish it could be Christmas everyday'. I can see Steven's happy grin, his innocent eyes as he enjoys pre-Christmas excitement with his siblings. My heart clenches – I can't explain it, but it feels like grief. I just know I need to get to him.

I look in the back window and see a little brown bottle of 'Liquid Gold', or Alkyl Nitrate if you had angina in the 1800's, on the window sill. Poppers is generally a club drug now. I've seen it around the Loft, mainly with the gay men. They said it increases arousal and desire and relaxes muscles, which I guess can be useful when in a rush in the club toilets. Now I know I've got the right place. I go to the back door and there's a sign next to a door bell which says 'Ring for Assistance." I press the bell and a few moments later a young lad, who looks a bit younger than Steven, opens the door. He beams at me with a smile that's laced with signs of cocaine. His nose is running and I can see the slight residue of white powder round his left nostril that he's failed to wipe off. His pupils are dilated and his eyes look bloodshot. He's fidgety but as he speaks he's pumped and confident.

Maybe I've got it all wrong and Blake's running some sort of drug op. I don't have time to realise I'd know about it if he were; or that Foxy would have almost certainly stopped it, if he were. There's one thing in this underworld we don't stop – don't get involved in.

"Hi, what services would you like tonight?" he asks in a strong cockney accent.

Why does that two syllable word 'services' make my skin crawl? I puff out a breath of panic. Getting to Steven that's all I need.

"I'm not sure yet." I say diverting eye contact, trying to look like a nervous client.

"Well why don't you tell me what you like and we can work something out? Whatever you wanna see, or try - I'm your man. Whatever the pleasure," Cockney flirts with me.

"I was actually after someone I met here before," I keep the pretence up. "He's about your age, light brown hair, blue eyes, skinny, Manchester accent."

I could describe him down to that cute little mole he has on his right arse cheek – but then something tells me this boy could as well.

"Oh, yeh, it's Ste you want, I think he's just finished his last client."

I've never had such a physical reaction to the word client before, but now it makes acid turn in my stomach.

"He's through there, in the room at the front." He says pointing towards a room down the hallway.

My heart aches and my fists clench in anger. If I could think this would be the time I realise I'm right – that this is my worst nightmare. But I'm not thinking, I'm working on impulse, my instinct to protect Steven.

I barge past Cockney and into the house and I'm in the kitchen. It's actually pretty clean, a few dirty cups in the sink, a few bags of unopened crisps on the side. I can see empty bottles of poppers thrown in the bin. More lined up on the counter like I saw in the window outside. I'm still trying to tell myself this is some form of a drug house.

I walk into the hallway, past a closed door where the Christmas music is being played from, although now I can hear groaning over the top of "I wish it could be Christmas everyday', playing on repeat. Noises of people having sex, everything inside me constricts and panic floods my veins. No, please…

As I get to the door of the room at the front, I slowly look into the room. It's got laminate wooden flooring, and painted pale blue walls. There's a bed side table with a lamp that has a blue light bulb, giving the room a bit of a sordid feel. The room's been freshly sprayed with some sickening floral scent that barely covers the oppressive, lingering, stink of drugs and sex. A bin's barely hidden by the window and it's full, literally full of dirty used condoms. In the middle of the room is a white mattress, tearing a little at the side, and the fucking covers got footballs on it, like it belongs to a teenage boy. My heart skips a beat and I feel a knot tighten in the pit of my stomach as there, sitting on the edge of the double bed, facing the wall away from me is...

The boy on the bed has his hood up, is crowded into himself and he's shaking like he's cold although it's got to be thirty odd degrees in here. His shoulders are hunched and his frame unbearably skinny. I can't see his face. I don't need to. I know it's Steven, I can feel it as every cell within me screeches.

I know it's Steven and I know what this is, I know what I left Steven with. I know Steven would have done the only thing he would have thought himself capable of.

I know Blake's porning out under age kids, and I know that Steven, my Steven...

When my thoughts are coherent it's anger that hits me first. Runs up from somewhere behind the slow burning grief, the ultimate disgust the habitual guilt and sparks from every nerve ending – takes over my very being. I didn't give him that money so that he'd end up here, so that he'd go right back to this. I didn't keep telling him how amazing he was, try to make him believe in himself for nothing, for worse than nothing, for this. I'm angry – at him, no I know it runs deeper than that but I can't process it yet.

I need him to know how angry I am.

I pose as a client, put on an English accent and say, "how much do you charge?"

He doesn't even turn around, his voice comes dry and hollow, "ten for a suck… twenty for a fuck with… fifty without."

Without what? Jesus – without a condom? What the fuck is he trying to do?

"How about eighty grand?!" I bark.

A tension runs through him as he works out it's me, you can see it like a ripple in every stringy tendon. Then he turns on his heel and stares at me – brave and solid and exactly like steal. He stands slowly, powerfully off the bed and there's this darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before, like there is nothing innocent in him now.

"Go fuck yourself Brady!" He shouts.

A snarl forms on his lips as he sniggers at his own joke, it really doesn't suit him.

He starts to walk away, but I trap him against the wall, my arms either side of him, fingers curled across the peeling wallpaper. His entire body tenses, his head drawing away from me, his body closing down, but in the hatred I gain a little bit of that pureness back. The pureness of a heart first broken.

You know I never intended for him to fall for me. All I ever tried to do was protect him.

"What happened to the money, Steven?"

"Gone innit?" He says, like it doesn't need any more explanation.

He won't look at me. I trap his jaw with one hand, demanding eye contact. I know my fingers are too tight in his flesh, I don't know if my intention is to hurt him.

"Care to explain to me how that sort of money just goes?"

He panics, not obviously, you'd miss it if you haven't watched him like I have. And then he tenses again, and spits at me, yes actually spits - effectively making me drop his face. He pushes at my arms but I refuse to let go, he pushes and pushes, his nails digging into my flesh, and then he's not really pushing anymore, he's more forcing himself into my arm, forcing himself to be held by me. And he sobs.

I stroke his back as the sweet childlike melody of that bloody Wizzard song plays, and he breaks.

He just says, "Terry."

"It's OK," I tell him. "It's OK Steven, I'm here now, I'll protect you I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

**Important News **

**(message from Kabr:)**

**As always thank you so so much to all our readers, followers and reviewers! Every word written encourages us and inspires us. Unfortunately, I have a confession...I am no longer going be writing UP with Mercurial. My last writing will be in chapter 16. I have found myself a job and with that, the husband, the boy and the household I just wont have time to continue writing. I am going to miss it immensely and have loved every single word I have written and I am feeling very sad to not be writing with the beautiful Mercurial any more. Of course she will continue and with her incredible talent and amazing plot bunnies the story keeps getting better! In her words I am not going to be sad that its over but be happy that it happened.**

**A/N (From Merc:)**

So so so sad :( I can't even begin to tell you guys. I did contemplate rushing to finish it (and not telling everything we wanted to) or not continuing to write it, or taking some time off and finishing it later. But I'm really enjoying writing it, and I've really loved the response from you guys so I think I'm going to continue – if that's OK with you?

Kabr will continue in a sort of part time beta role, and secretly I'm hoping she might find time to come back for the dramatic end, but I do know she's far too busy to consider anything at the moment.

If you are happy with me continuing we have some plot twists and turns and angst ahead – we're just coming to the end of 'part one' and 'part two' will be significantly more angsty I think. It will also include more of the Brady-Hay kids, and a blast from the past, aaand don't worry I have a lovely fate in store for Terry – ick! In the short term we will of course (eventually) let you know what happened to the money/Ste when he returned home before meeting Blake. Also I promise I'm not going to keep repeating scenes at the start of chapters – we just thought this was the best way of catching up with Ste).

**Chapter Warnings:**

Angst.

References to sexual actions.

**Chapter Fifteen – Ste Hay.**

It's a proper 'orrible night. Business is slow, everyone fightin over slim pickin's. It don't help that it's Christmas Eve, cos all proper people are home with their families so those here are the desperate low-life sorts that normally I would do anything to avoid – you never know what these guys have got. And just like that I remember. I can't stop thinking about the Browning test I had earlier, panic proper floods every time. Right now I would do anything to take my mind of it but barely no-ones here. I've had two at the minimum end, which means that, with the cut Blake gets, I've earned a fiver. At least it's enough for a warm meal tomorrow. I sit with my back to the door, sink further into my trackie, anyway looking pissed off means I get more business – adds to the scally look don' it?

I can sense someone in the room, lookin' at me, but I can't be bothered to turn around. I'm still feelin a little of the high from the last hit, my muscles feel furry. The client smells pretty good though, and he's got this deep English accent as he asks me for prices. I get a good feeling so I give him the _full_ menu. If I earn twenty-five from him, that's thirty all together and I won't have to go back to the squat tonight.

But it's him innit? Brady. He tricked me, putting on this stupid accent. He traps me as I try to leave, and he's dead angry, but I'm numb. I can't feel owt. My life is ruined and I'm dead inside.

He pulls me to him, traps me and I'm faced with all those memories – of happiness and warmth and love. It was fucking love OK?! Everything he did for me, for us, you don't do that for someone you're just fucking – believe me I should know. I have regulars.

"What happened to the money, Steven?"

Was that all only two weeks ago? Life can change on a knife edge, sommit Terry taught me, that.

"Gone innit?"

"Care to explain to me how that sort of money just goes?" He pushes and pushes and he's gonna make me talk about it and I just can't, I can't even think about it.

But it's his smell innit? That smell that used to make me feel safe, used to feel like comfort. It's here in this nightmare I live in and he's come to rescue me again, so what am I supposed to do but cry and let him hug me and gimme those old fake promises? But I know his sort of 'rescue' now don' I? I know it lasts days at the most and I end up worse than when I started. I know I can't trust him.

I pull my head away from his shoulder. I see Roscoe a little scared for me, it's his turn for working the door tonight and has to report the figures to Blake. He'll lie for me if he has to, but after the last time I know neither of us can take another warning.

I take one last breath in of Brady.

I count back from three.

"Let me go," I whisper a warning, although it's me that's got him.

"Come again?" He asks, dead confused, like.

"You paying?!" I demand, shouting, hopin' someone will hear me over the music. "Cos I'm missing trading hours, me."

"No Steven I'm not gonna pay – do you really think I'm gonna let you-" and his 'ands start to cup my face warm and gentle, like. That way he did that used to feel like help and safety, I can't let him do this.

I push him back.

"Having a problem here mate?" Roscoe asks, and I do the only thing I can do.

"No, it's fine – customers just got a little greedy but we've talked it through 'aven't we and he's just going."

"Steven."

"Go!"

***K&M***

He did go didn' he? Only not properly. I felt his eyes on me. I couldn't see him. I knew he were watching though. I was picked up, not a too bad looking bloke this time – an American business man 'ere closing a deal. I saw Brady shifting in the shadows as I closed the door.

Mr America tells me to strip – drunkenly tells me all about what 'e wants; and all I can hear is Brady's raised voice from just outside the door. I don't even want to think about what's going on out there so I try to concentrate on what Mr America is saying, try to block out Brady and convince myself I don't care what he's doin'. I hear Brady's proper boomin' voice get louder and angrier before I recognise another voice. Blake.

Shit.

I scamper clumsily round the bed, hastily hositin up my trackies, no time to zip up the hoody as I leave the room. I don't have time to care that I'm runnin' out on a client or what Blake will say when he sees me. I fling the door open just in time to see Brady shove Blake backwards against the front door, anger flashing like fire in his eyes. Blake composes himself well quick and straightens his suit. Then he proper smirks at Brady.

Blake's smugness is like a light switch for Brady, right. It's like he's pressed the wrong button and I can almost see it send electricity down his spine and create this ripple of energy. Brady appears all calm, like, but I can see the signs. I know 'im- I notice his teeth grindin', the clenched fists, proper big pupils. I can see the slight flushin' of his cheeks and little beads of sweat startin' to appear on his forehead.

"If there's a problem with one of my boys then I'm sure we can sort it out." Blake says dead calm. "Did you not get what you were looking for or did they not tend to your needs?"

Brady scowls and takes a step forward, without thinkin' I step in front of him.

"Brady, please don't. Just go yeah?" I ask tryin' to keep my voice proper steady.

He don't take his eyes off Blake for a second.

"Get out of the way, Steven."

"Oh so you know Ste then?" A small smile curls round Blake's lips. "A regular are you? He's one of our best, will do anything and everything and takes it like a pro, oh but Ste." He says fixing those cold dead eyes on me, "we will chat later but Browning phoned, no more specials for a while OK?"

Time dies.

I've worked here long enough to know there's only ever one reason Blake says, 'no more specials'.

And now 'e's sayin it to me – it's torture. It's the loose pavemen' I slipped on and broke my foot when I was five, and it's Terry's fists every time he pounded into my stomach, and it's the look in Leah's eyes when she told me her arm was broke, and it's the needle Warren's men pushed into my skin, and it's the ice Brady pushed me onto, and it's my first client. And it's every client. It's every man I've ever fucked as I cycle back through my memory like I'm flipping a scrap book of payin' men, attemptin' the impossible - trying to work out where I fucked up, who my mistake was.

I stare at Brady, knowing I've lost him, knowing I'm 'ere for good – he won't want me now will 'e? No one will, 'cept Blake, 'cept these low lives.

Then everything happens in a blur. The back of me thighs bush against the step as Brady pushes me to the side before jumpin' forward - pushin' Blake hard up against the door.

"You make another crack about Steven again and I will kill you. Do you understand?!" he growls at Blake through gritted teeth.

Blake laughs then splutters from the pressure of Brady's arm on his throat. "More than just your rent boy is he? He is very pretty." He rasps.

Brady removes his arm from Blake's throat but proper quick brings his left arm back then lands a punch into Blake's stomach, right in the breadbox. Blake leans forward, winded from the force of the punch. Brady brings his arm back to punch Blake again but I grab it and hold on as tight as I can, like. He's too strong for me though and shakes my arm off.

"Please Brady! It's not worth it," I say knowing he'll just reject me when Blake shares the news anyway.

Brady takes his eyes off Blake and looks towards me as if tryna do everything in his power to not beat the crap outta him. I see the fire in his eyes calm a little as he looks at me, it's like I can hear his 'eart slow. He leaves Blake spluttering against the wall, and steps closer to me. He pulls up the zip of my hoody, closin' me off from the world. His eyes are a deep blue sad and I feel them over my skin, but it's almost like he can warm me. With the zip done up, he takes a second and then it seems to take all his will strength to barge past Blake and open the front door.

"Let's go, Steven." He says tryna motion me out the door.

"I don't think so," Blake interrupts. "Ste still has work to do, he has a client in there who's waiting for his money's worth." You can see Brady's lips proper snarl but Blake talks dead quick. "Maybe there's someone else we can tempt you to while you're waiting - I have to say Brendan I didn't think Ste would be your type, thought your boy would be more….impressive. Less… what's the word? Ste, what is the word?" He says and he's trying to get me to say it, he's tryin to get me to tell Brady this evenin's news – Brownin's result. Tell Brady there's proof I'm dirt, inside and out.

I stare at Brady, I know already what he's gonna look like when he knows. His skin will pale, his eyes darken, and he will look like he's scorning himself – like he hates that he's surprised I'm dirt when he's always known it. And he'll leave, and I'll never see him again.

"What the fuck are you on about Patrick?!"

"Ste Hay," Blake bellows, and I feel my skin chill like I'm bein told off by the headmaster. "Something you want to tell Brendan here?"

"Steven?"

"I've caught something," the truth slips easy cos Brady's lookin at me like that.

"What?"

"Caught something, one of the clients have-" my words don't go anywhere.

Blake's boys get checked every two weeks by Browning, mine was today and I don't need more than me orders to know what the result is. There is only one reason Blake says 'no more specials'.

Brady swallows hard like he's tryin not to wretch.

"One of the clients have what, Steven?"

"Chlamydia," Blake gives the word that seals my fate like he's proper happy.

I've never seen Brady's face like it is the moment he hears that.

"Bren please don't," is instinctive.

Brady snaps his head round to look at Blake.

"Say that again," he asks dead slow his accent like broken glass.

Blake smiles not at all frightened, "you're little boy has chlamydia, should have been more careful."

Brady starts to launch himself forward at Blake. He throws a punch to Blake's nose sending blood pouring down his face. Blake touches the blood and looks at his fingers. The swellin' already startin' to show on his nose and around his eyes.

Blake's calm is like a wave, you can see it ripple.

He speaks dead calm, despite the clearly broken nose, "look Brendan, I don't think this is necessary. We can sit down and discuss it."

"What's the matter _Patrick_? Only like to mess with young boys, do ye?"

With one swift motion Brendan pushes Blake out the front door, into the porch and onto doorstep. He scrambles to his feet as Brady moves slowly towards him, like a tiger stalkin' it's prey.

I quickly follow them out. "Please stop, please!"

"Stay inside," Brady warns.

Blake's quick and whilst Brady is talkin' to me he plants a right hook on Brady's face and I hear the crack of his eye socket as the force whips his head backwards. Blake follows up his advantage, breathing hard. He lands another punch this time to Brady's jaw and I see the small spray of blood spurt from his split lip.

The force of the punch has spun Brady round so he's facing me. I flinch at the sight of the cut above his left eye and the trickle of blood from his lip. Instinctively I reach out my hand to tend to the cuts but he bats it away.

"Steven…Go….In…. Side…. Now!" He pants.

I back up to the front door, have no intention of going inside, though. I can't just leave him!

Brady turns and spits out some blood before wiping the rest away on his sleeve. He brings his leg up and kicks Blake hard in the gut, sending him backwards onto the pavement, trippin him on the step. Brady wastes no time in landing another kick to Blake's gut.

"Get up you sick Bastard!" Brady bellows.

He picks up a crumbling wooden chair and brings it up above Blake's head. My hearts proper poundin'. Brady won't let it end like this. He wants to make him suffer. Wants Blake to feel the pain.

"Please, Brady, don't!"

The chair is crashed right on top of Blake.

There's a little bit of stillness.

Then Blake breathes a couple of times. Wobbles slightly to his feet and runs forwards and barges right into Brady. They push into each other and start strugglin'. Brady has got an arm free and his muscles settle into a rhythm of punchin' into Blake's ribcage.

They will kill each other before either lets up.

"Stop it! Both of you stop it!" I scream as loud as I can but they can't or don't want to hear me.

I need to get their attention so I scan the street and spot Brady's car. I pick up a small plank of wood and start to bring it down hard on the car, smashin' the windscreen, all the windows. I'm screamin' as I'm right dentin' the bonnet and the doors. The car alarm starts wailin'. I drop the wood. Both men stop and then look up at me.

Brady pushes Blake back 'ard, and starts stormin' towards me, red hot anger in his eyes.

"What the fuck Steven?"

Behind him I see Blake pull something out of his pocket. My heart starts thumping and I can hear ringin' in me ears.

"Bren! He's got a knife!"

He freezes as Blake swipes at his back with the blade. I swear I can hear a sort of swooshin' noise as he swipes back and forth. Cutting 'im rather than stabbin' 'im. Brady swears before whippin' round and getting' another small swipe to the chest. He grabs Blake's wrist tryna get him to drop the knife. There's a struggle for it. I see it glint in Brady's hand, a glint in his eyes. Then Blake's on the floor. Brady kicks him to the ground. Kickin' him hard over and over. I think for a second he's killed him, but Blake's still active just damaged, badly.

I run up and put my hands on his shoulders. "Brady, come on, leave it." I try and pull him back. "He's not worth it!"

Brady flinches at my touch but sniffs, inhales deeply and his shoulders relax as he steps away.

"Ok. Ok." he agrees.

We both take a couple of steps back, to the other side of the stree', Blake splutters out a curse laced with blood as he's crumpled on the ground. A couple of the guys from the 'ouse, Blake's pets, come over to us. Brady places 'is arm in fron' of me – so he's seperatin' them from me but I know they won't come nowhere near.

"It's OK," I tell Brady as one of the pets nods at me, before carrying Blake away, I think he's kinda glad someone got one over on the boss.

"It's OK?" Bren asks, turning to me with eyes wide as saucers – you can still see he's proper stressed, there's a vein bulging in his head. "It's OK?! What part of this is OK? What the fuck did you do to my car Steven?!"

He walks over, leans over it like it's some sort of baby.

"Answer me!" He orders.

I shrug, scuffin the ground.

He's over with me in three quick strides.

"At least fucking look at me!" He says, cupping my face, bringing my gaze to him. He looks like he's sad again, he sounds it too when he asks, "Steven, what happened to you?"

I take a step back from him – the answer looking me in the face. He happened to me innit?

"Steven for fuck's sake! Look at the car!"

I don', I stare proper point blank back at him.

"Had to get you to stop didn't I? I mean what the 'ell did you think you're doing Brady?" He's Blake! No-one takes on Blake unless they've got a death wish.

"What do I think _I'm_ doing?! What the fuck do you think you're doing Steven? Why are you here? Who the fuck was that man?!" He says pointing towards the 'ouse – to Mr America.

"A client."

"A client? A client?! No, I'm not having this - you're not gonna sell yourself anymore!" He barks, like he can instruct me.

"They aint all got-"

"What they've got doesn't matter. You're too young Steven!"

I smirk, ironic that innit? "Didn't stop you!"

I snarl at him and he snarls back, anger, real anger in his eyes. But I don't feel scared, not proper, I guess I know he's never gonna hurt me, no matter how disappointed he is in me.

I hate him for being disappointed in me, but most of all I proper hate myself for making him disappointed.

"Anyway I'm 17!" I say, I can hear my voice sounds proper different, I sound like a little kid again. Like just talking to Brady can proper change me.

"You're underage to be working here," he points out slowly like he's explainin.

"You think I had a choice?" I bite back and then I like regret it…cos I know he didn't mean it like that.

Over the car alarm I hear that bloody song about Christmas start up again. Blake's been playing this on repeat the last three nights – like a countdown to the main event. I used to cry every night when Leah and Lucas' singing faces would be replaced by the faces of men screaming in gut-twisting pleasure. I don't cry anymore.

Time sort of slows between us, and it all feels softer now – like it does when I've first taken a hit but this is drug-free. This calm is all Brendan Brady – even more fake than poppers! He looks at me with the bright blue eyes I've seen in my sleep and I struggle. I still haven't convinced myself that what I felt in his house was phony, not proper.

We stand just starin' at each other, just stood in the street with all this destruction - the chair, the car, the blood and all we're doing is lookin at each other, like the world don't matter.

Working here we all get this feeling, like our skin don't fit and are bones are on show and you can see everything inside us - our lungs which don't breath and our hearts which don't have life. We feel like every single person can see it. We call it the Blake effect.

Brady looks at me now, and smiles, gentle like, not like he's 'appy but like he's saying 'ello. And I kinda loose it a little bit, the Blake effect. I can't feel 'im no more. I can feel Brady though, and as he steps closer I can feel my lungs start again cos I can breathe 'im, like I can breathe Brady into me. And I can feel my 'eart cos it fucking hurts. Why the fuck does Brady still do this? Why the fuck does he have to act like he cares? I don't need him to pretend no more. I know what I am now, Browning's result proved that. And the Blake effect was just starting to feel OK.

I look at the cut by Brady's eye, it looks proper bad, swelling already. He's such an idiot. I take the disinfectant wipes from my pocket. Roscoe gave them to me after things got bad with Blake the first time. I bring it up to him, wipe it over the cut and he grabs my wrist, fingers tight. My skin burns, our electricity bringing me alive. I can feel him all over me. Fuck! Yes! I thought I couldn't feel like this anymore. I thought with all the naked skin I've had on mine that my cells just don't respond the same. But I guess it's that I only feel like this with Brady.

I know he feels it too, I can see it in the way his eyes flash. He stares at me so I stare at him back – he's the one that's scared of us.

"You don't have to do that."

"Just let me fucking look at it will you?" I insist, the cuts looking proper bad now.

He lets go of my hand and I trace the outter edge of the cut with the antiseptic.

"I'm not your problem, Steven."

"You will always be my problem," I say quickly, shakin my head and laughin at him a little – like it would be that easy to just forget about him!

And then I think about what I said – the way it sounded, kinda like a confession, me tellin' him that this aint nowhere near over. And you can tell he's thinking that too. It's kinda awkward for a moment and I can feel his breath against my cheek. And I just wanna feel him everywhere. But my finger slips against the cut and his eyes tighten and mouth stretches.

"Don't be such a baby," I say and he smiles like he used to when I teased him.

He lets me clean the cut for a moment or two, and I move to the one on his forehead. And as I stand on tiptoes his eyes go to my ear, the tear just below the hair line. It's small now, almost invisible. Blake don't leave marks that'd put off the clients. His finger presses against it, and then he feels up into the hair, across the mark where it gets deeper.

"Jesus, Steven."

"It's OK," I tell him quick, I always wanna reassure him.

"Who did this to you?"

I don't tell him at first - he don't need to know does he? It would just make it hard for him to do what he wants to – leave me again. But then he like tilts his head to the side, his eyes proper clear, that look that says 'you and I both know you're gonna tell me eventually, might as well be sooner'.

"Blake." I answer 'im. "It's OK though, right?"

It's proper fine now and I kinda deserved it anyway. My fifth day here, me and Roscoe really didn't wanna work. So we hid out by the bins smoking weed. The boy on the door that day said he'd cover for us, he didn't though. Blake's got barbed wire locked in his drawer for times like that.

"No, Steven this will never be OK," he says in that voice he used to tell me I was dynamite and you know all that other crap. And his eyes are like that, like he proper believes in what he's saying, believes in me, believes I'm better than this – worth more than this. Even now, even with this disease. And there's so much emotion running through me that I can barely breathe – but I want it, I'm not scared. Brady's like a tidal wave, one I wanna get sucked into.

We just stare at each other, it feels like hours pass but probably only a couple of minute's innit. Time does funny things when we stand close. He steps closer like he knows I want him to kiss me, his eyes darken like that and he breathes in – he breathes _me_ in. He leans just a little further forward and I can almost feel the brush of his tash on my nose. I can almost taste him, I feel my lips part for his.

And then Blake's here. I can feel him first – he has this presence like a bomb, everyone knows when he's in a room, you can just sense it.

I panic and Brady can see it.

"I'm getting you out of here Steven, alright?"

He never gives me a real choice does he? He grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the street. We run.

Blake's hot on our heels as we leave the brothel, so we run and we run and we run.

I escape this nightmare with the only one who's ever cared enough to know.

***K&M***

I get lost, but this is Brady's city innit? He always knows where we're going. We run till the blood pounds in my head, and the world gets dizzy and I collapse against a brick wall. I bend my knees, catchin my breath.

Brady lays a hand on my shoulder but it's like he proper don't wanna touch me. He moves it quick.

I try to pretend it doesn't sting when he leaves me. I try to act like I don't feel more dirty under his touch than any client.

"OK?" He asks, and there's concern in his eyes, and I can feel that.

And I nod, I think I might be now. When I met Blake I thought my life would change, I thought I'd be OK with not being OK. But I guess no-one has the power to change my story but Brendan Brady.

When I can see straight I take a look around. We're in some sort of alley way, it's all big concrete buildings and shadow. It's proper late now. You can tell when it's 4 in the morning, you know - when the world goes dead silent? Cos everyone's at home sleepin'. I know exactly what it looks like. Tonight looks a little different though – like there's a buzz beneath the surface - you can see it in the windows of the houses down the lane, feel it in the sky. It's Christmas Eve. I close me eyes and get a little image of Leah and Lucas' smilin' faces. I see 'em at Brady's when we first got there – Leah in that pink princess bed, Lucas under his football duvet. I puff out that breath that always catches.

I haven't been sleeping at 4 for a while. When I went back to Terry's, sleep wasn't exactly a luxury I could afford – when you sleep you're vulnerable. So I spent a lot of this time outdoors. The last few days though, 4 has been spent making strangers scream and collecting pay.

I had some proper crazy clients. I was one of the runts so I got the bad un's that were regulars – the ones that had extra special requests. I've done some scary shit. I look across and up the torso, the arms and the tash of the man standing next to me. I wonder if he knows that the idea of sleeping him with makes me more scared than any of those? At least with the clients I knew I wouldn't end up in a worse place than when I started.

I could live with what Blake's men made me feel. Blake lifted my skin open and poured disease inside; he didn't change a proper thing about me though. But Brady did. The last time I saw Brady I wanted to change every scrap that made me, me - I wanted to tear meself to pieces, destroy meself and be someone else, cos maybe then he would of loved me back.

I watch him cross the road dead quick, and shoulder against this padlocked door. He does that twice and then the door crashes open revealin' a set of steps that twist and wind up. 'e rests his 'ands in his pockets as he raises an eyebrow and sort of calls me silently to him. Me body obeys. He's just above me as we walk up the steps.

***K&M***

It's dead dark going up, there's no light, and I scrape around the wall that feels weirdly damp. I feel his hand reach for mine, 'is fingers fit between me own and I let 'im lead me. I feel a bit better like that.

"Hang on," he says before I hear him bash against another door.

Lights burst quickly - close blinding lights of the flood lamps on the concrete roof; medium orange lights of the street lamps nearby, and then all sort of different colours across the city. I feel my stomach dip - remember how close we were when we last saw lights like this. God that felt incredible. I look at 'im quickly, wonder if he even remembers that – course he don't. Weren't love for him were it?

I shiver a little cos it's dead cold, but he takes his leather jacket off and wraps it around me. We're on the roof of a deserted car park - you can see the white lines of the bays, the tire screeches on the tarmac.

"Me and Chez used to come here when we were kids." He tells me, though I didn't ask. "And Foxy," he adds as he shoots me a look, like it's supposed to mean more than what he's just said.

I roll my eyes, I don't flippin' care anymore – he can 'ide behind Foxy all he likes but he's not the reason he's scared of being in love – he can't be. You don't get that scared unless it's something within you.

We walk to the end of the road and 'e jumps up the concrete wall. Sits on the edge. I never told him this but I'm a little scared of heights, me. Well not heights exactly, just fallin' from them, or being pushed. And this height is proper massive. He waits for me though and I can't show I'm scared can I? So I sidle up next to him, trying not to look down.

He moves in closer to me so our legs brush. I can smell him from his jacket around me. I can feel his warmth next to me. And I hear the sounds of his breathing drifting by me. And I think - things might be alright now. Least the city's dead beautiful from up here. When the calm comes it feels like nothing can hurt us when we're as high as we are. Nothin' but him maybe.

He flips open a flask, drinks it slowly, and passes it ' me. It's whiskey 'e's givin' me. I guess he don't think he needs to protect me from owt anymore.

"You never let me drink," I feel myself say, my lip pouting.

Quick I swig his drink - more than I can take and my throat burns and eyes sting.

He smiles at me like I'm young and he needs to protect me.

"Whatever it takes, Steven."

"For what?"

'e looks dead at me, unblinkin'. Time ticks dead slow, before he whispers, "till you talk to me."

"You wanna know how I got there? With Blake like."

"Yeah, Steven, I wanna know how you got there."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:**

Thankyou so much for the ongoing support for this little story, reviews really are fodder and you all really help to sharpen the plot and keep us on track. Also Kabr would like to thank you all so much for the well wishes :D (I miss her already :().

This chapter came out excessively long so we've split it into two – which means two back to back Brendan POV's, I hope no one will find that too irritating.

Kabr is still very much along for the ride, her writing actually features to a large extent in this chapter. After this she will be here as beta, and hopefully occasional co-writer – I won't let her go too far!

**Chapter Warning:**

Really excessively angsty, sorry :/

**Chapter Sixteen Brendan Brady  
**

I can barely believe it when he asks, "you wanna know how I got there, to Blake's like?"

No - I just thought I'd do everything tonight, have a knife held at me, have my car written off, come to this carpark that's shrouded in secrets, on nothing more than a whim!

But now's not the time to despair at him so I say, "yeah, Steven, I wanna know how you got there."

He takes another swig of the whiskey, as though he's building up to the introduction of his disclosure, I can see all the heartache inside him and I need it to be a part of me – he can't shoulder this all on his own.

He takes a deep breath and starts talking, his voice is exactly the same as the boy I know so well, but his words are clearer, sharper. He's lived a chapter of his life in the fourteen days since I said goodbye.

"We left yours that day to go meet Uncle Tony. We got to the train station and I proper knew somethin' were up right?"

Steven said most of this the day he turned up on my door, but he didn't have the time, or the energy, or the strength to tell me it all so I nod at him to continue.

"Tony looked right shifty and was on the phone. Next time I looked he 'ad gone and Terry were there," he sighs.

I wince slightly as I feel my battered knuckles automatically clench into fists at the sound of _that_ name.

"As soon as I seen him I just grabbed the kids and ran. It was just proper like instinct, you know? I just told the twins it were a game and we ran."

He takes another swig of the whiskey, he drinks so much I see his eyes sting. He's drinking like he needs it, like the alcohol is essential, and I can't take that, so I speak softly. Say, "hey, hey that's enough," and take the bottle away from him.

"I didn't know where were goin' at first but then I remembered somewhere that I always thought of a safe place, when we was younger, like. So I took 'em there."

A single tear falls silently down his cheek.

"I took 'em there." He shakes his head slowly as if trying to comprehend what he did. " I took 'em and left 'em there Bren!" he jumps off the wall and starts talking frantically. His speech builds to a tempo of despair. "Social Services! I took them to Social Services and just left 'em! Let 'em go! I didn't know what else to do though, right. I didn't have nowhere else to go and I couldn't let them live on the streets again, could I? But I promise I didn't know they were gonna take them away from me! I just thought they were gonna help us out or sommit!" His breathing is erratic, his eyes wild with fear and guilt.

"Hey. Shh. It's ok." I soothe.

I go to reach out for him but pull my arm back, unsure if it is my place to do so. Unsure if he would want me to.

"You did the right thing, Steven. You didn't have a choice, ok? You did the right thing."

He makes eye contact and I nod at him. His breathing starts to slow and he's seemingly calmed. He falls back onto the wall next to me and continues.

"After I le-" he takes a deep breath, "after I left them there I came to you."

I feel a sadness prevail through my being as I think back to that night. The vehemence of my renunciation effervesces to the surface and my heart hurts for him.

"Anyways, that night, after I been to see you. I…..I didn't have nowhere to go, right, so I went ho-" he scuffles on the word, looks down at his feet and says, "Terry's."

I feel a sharp stab of guilt in the depths of my inside. I did that. I sent him home. Back to that. Back to that satanic deification.

"Why did you go there? You had all that money. Why?"

He squirms in his seat for a moment as though he doesn't want to tell me. Doesn't want to force me to hear the truth behind his reasons…. Because the reason is me.

"Steven, the truth, tell me," I try to keep my voice soft.

"I proper thought there was a chance for me and you. When you got rid, everything just died. That week you made me feel like I could proper be something, and I never felt like that before right? And then you just got - you just got rid I couldn't…" his words struggle as he refuses to look at me, I don't blame him. I can barely think of my own actions – the monster I am evident in his words.

"I didn't have nowhere else to go, so I thought right, if that's how it's meant to be I would take your money home for me Mam to buy her gear and make her proper pleased with me. I thought from then on I would just do whatever to get the money comin' in, coz when I am makin' money for her she likes me," he shrugs.

He fucking shrugs! He shrugs as if he accepts that's how it is and accepts that's all he's worth. It's my turn to take a large swig of whiskey.

"What happened when you got home?"

"I walked in and Tony were there with me Mam and Terry. He was getting a right bollockin' for lettin' me get away," he snorts.

He turns to look me intensely in the eye.

"Do you know it took two days for Mam to even ask where the twins were? _Two days! _And when I told her she just shrugged and said it were two less mouths to feed." He says fiercly.

He wrings his hands together in anger, fury shooting from his soul.

"How can a parent be like that, huh?" he asks me.

The question resonates against the concrete. If walls could talk they'd be looking at my actions, asking the same question of my soul.

"I don't know, Steven." I reply honestly.

We sit in a silence for a few moments, Steven absorbed in thoughts about the twins whilst I reflect on how my exploits affect the boys. Each of us ponder on the reason behind some parent's iniquity.

_The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son._

"I told you! I told you we couldn't trust Tony!" he exclaims loudly. "It was all a set up, right. As soon as I had called Tony he told Mam and Terry where we were. They knew all along what was gonna happen. I bet Tony proper couldn't believe his luck when you offered him that eighty grand."

I divert my gaze from his. That tortured look in his eyes burns through me like an inferno.

"So what happened to the money exactly?" I ask.

"I'm sorry OK? I'll fucking pay you ba-" his words depict the storm inside him.

"No, Steven." I say, placing my hand on his shoulder I hope he sees it as comfort. "I'm not asking that. Just tell me what happened."

He kicks the wall, head shrinking into his hoody as he nods.

"Terry thought he'd made it big time when he saw the case, he'd set the whole thing up, getting that money from you, he 'ad it all planned right? So he proper thought he could do anything. He tried to cut in on a big crack deal but they had his number from the off – proper mugged him off, idiot…." he pauses a second.

Guilty eyes creep up my skin. "Brady I didn't mean to lose it I'm…"

I shake my head softly at his apology and he doesn't give it. What's eighty grand in this story? Totally fucking insignificant. Anyway there's some cosmic irony to be found that the money that was made in drugs should be lost through them.

"Terry was erm….Terry was worse after that right." I wonder how that monster could possibly get any worse from what I've heard about him, but I look into Steven's boyhood eyes and see that he feared for his life. I swallow past the sheer anger building inside me. "He didn't come home for proper ages, was in the bar the 'ole time," Steven's pulling at the skin of his wrists and I wonder if I can take this news. "I think he drank for thirtysix hours straight right? And then when he, when he came back…" He's trembling now, and staring ahead like there's something going on that only he can see. It's like he fades from this moment and he's back there facing whatever it was that scared the very depth of him. He's not here now – he's in the scarred shadows of his soul. "When he came back he, erm, he-, he-, he…" He starts to breathe heavily, too heavily and the trembling tempers.

"Steven!" I say, cupping his face between my hands, trying to calm him. His eyes shift to look at me yet it's as if he can't see me. He's lost, trapped, in that moment. "Steven – look at me! It's OK – whatever it is, it's OK. You're with me now and you don't have to tell me until your ready OK?"

The trembles running through his body get more intense and they bring tears. The waves that are ricocheting through his body bleed through his eyes. I pull him to me, and he rests his head, face first, into my chest. I hug him with all the strength I have, I don't care anymore. Those questions about whether I should and whether it's my place pale into insignificance, there's only one thought echoing in every cell.

Protection – it's our code word now.

Eventually his tears subside, deep throbbing sobs heaving his shoulders. He sniffs and then he pulls himself away. Pulls at his hoody like he's straightening himself up, ready to face his public, his eyes evading me – he looks embarrassed for sharing his soul. They've changed him completely, damaged every cell of the boy I once knew, misplaced his innocent honesty. He's hardened now, his own monster finding a cage inside him. I feel the red mist gather as hell starts up inside me. I feel physically restricted by the internal rage at what these poisonous bastards have done to my Steven. I jolt up off the ledge and feel my muscles straining with tension.

"I am going to bloody kill them!" I holler.

"What? Wait! No Brady! Please. Calm down." Steven pleads.

"Calm down?! How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?!" I start pacing, trying to allow some of this pent up anger to dispel.

"Bren plea-"

"They need to pay! They need to know they can't do this and can't get away with it!"

Steven reaches out and grabs my arm. I snap my head towards him growling, as if to warn him not to touch me. But he stands his ground. Stares right back at me, gripping my arm tighter. He's so fucking brave.

"You are not going anywhere," he says like it's so easy for him to order me, calm me.

It is. I can already see clearer - with that simple command he calms the uncontrollable mist within me.

"The twins are safe and so am I, now."

I go to protest but he puts a finger on my lips to quiet me. I surrender to his pleas and it always amazes me how this boy is capable of pulling me from the depths of my indignation like no one else.

We sit back on the ledge, each taking another sip of whiskey. Who am I to deny him the smooth mollifying nectar, tonight of all nights? After all he has been through in the past couple of weeks.

"What about Blake?" I ask, I need the answer. "How did you get involved with him?"

"I met him in an _Irish_ Bar." He laughs at the verbal irony. "I sat there proper downin' pint after pint. I just remember him comin' up to us right outta nowhere and offerin' me a job. He made it sound all glamorous or sommit – he said it would be proper good pay, and I would have somewhere to stay every night that I made him money. So I wouldn't have t' go back to the shelter. Proper bullshit, all of it – but I proper didn't know at the time-"

He looks up at me, beautiful eyes wide and somehow innocent. Asking me to understand why he accepted Blake's offer. Asking me for a little bit of simple compassion.

It's too late. All I can give is a smoothing smile and a nulling nod.

"We didn't go back to the house then or anything. He told me to meet him in a bar later that night. Gave me his card, like a proper business card, yeah? Had his number on and he wrote the address of the bar on the back. So I went for a walk to try and sober up a bit but I needn't 'ave bovvered coz when I met up with him he started buyin' me a loadda drinks anyway."

I sigh heavily, partly due to sorrow for this boy, partly to stop the anger resurfacing.

"A bit later on, a bloke turns up. Gives Blake some money and then takes me to the house you found me in tonight."

He inhales deeply and I start to feel a dull ache spread across my chest as if my body is physically preparing itself for the affliction his next words are going to cause.

"And then he had sex with me. He was my first client."

"Oh God, Steven," I breathe.

I take hold of his hand and squeeze it to try and give some kind of reassurance to the broken boy sitting next to me.

"It's ok," he shrugs. "I mean, it shouldn't have been owt I wasn't used to right?" He says like it's supposed to be some form of joke, my stomach churns.

He looks into my eyes and almost as if he feels closer to himself adds the honesty. "To start with it was like a livin' hell but I started to be able to kinda block out the pain. Blake said I was doin' good. The men seemed to like me, right. On a good day I could take 5 or 6."

His voice falters towards the end. The tears start falling as though he bleeds the salt of his soul.

"I'm so so sorry, Steven." I breathe in a whisper.

His clenched fists are pressed against his eyes blocking out the light, the world. Beneath them I know he sees a darkness that he fears will soon swallow him if I don't save him. If I don't protect him. And I know that's the one thing I have to do, there is no other thing to do.

"I have a place in town," I tell him in a whisper. "Just a small flat," a hide-away in case I can't go home. "You're staying with me, OK?"

We both know it's not a question, now's not the time to think of principles and norms, now is simply the start of protection.

"After the holiday I'm gonna get you to a clinic, I just – I need to keep you safe, Steven."

He sniffs a little, looks up at me finally. His eyes glance over my features like he's tracing a map he once knew.

His words are as quiet as the night as he whispers, "you do – I feel safe with you."

***K&M***

I call Jim to bring the Merc, and pick up the damaged Lexus. We wait back down in the alleyway. The heavens open and Steven's soaked in a second – yet he acts like he can't feel it. He's still so distant. So I grab him by the wrist and pull him into a doorway, square my body around his. Nothing will stop me from protecting him.

His eyes take a while to find mine, like they'd rather look anywhere else. Yet when our gazes meet it's like thunder – his body shakes like a leaf in a storm.

"Jim will be here soon," I tell him and he nods, smiling vaguely.

He places his hands on my shoulders, and waits as if to test my reaction. But I can't let myself respond can I? I don't trust myself standing this close to him. Eventually he just exhales long and hard and pushes his hands off my shoulders to wrap his arms around my neck. The hug's like none I can remember. I'm undeniably instantaneously attracted to him; my physicality is on barely-controlled high-alert. But there's something more behind the hug, something so much more intense. Yet more important than all that is that this hug feels like the times I hold safety back into one of my boys. He feels like a treasure I need to keep safe.

He rests his head into my shoulder and that's when I see them, the dark purple marks of someone's fingers around his throat.

At first I feel hatred that something's hurt him. And then like a flash I remember my own fingers clenching into his skin earlier. The smooth skin denting beneath my fingertips as we stood in that revolting bedroom and I demanded his confession.

I stroke a finger over one of the marks, trying to tend to it in the way I know how.

"I hurt you," I breathe, self-disgust washing over me.

"It's not the first time is it?" He says, every muscle in him defensive.

"Steven I didn't mean-" my words cut off because I don't know what I meant – I knew I was holding him too roughly at the time.

After a moment he leans backward to look at me. He looks at me. And for the first time I can see something of the boy I recognise in his eyes.

"It don't matter," he whispers softly, his finger trailing over the bruise by my eye.

This thing we're trapped in is like a storm. But I will not let him break.

***K&M***

When we arrive back in Chester I leave him in front of the television before going into the bathroom to tend to my bruises. There are deep, vaguely-healing, cuts beneath my shirt and as I strip I find myself searching for Steven - hoping he hasn't decided to follow. He can't see me like this. I don't want him to have to shoulder anymore hurt. I have given him too much already.

He's not there so I remove the shirt and hang it over the door. Take the antiseptic and the cotton wool. Bite my tongue to stop from groaning as the skin is treated.

"Let me?" He whispers.

His presence is sudden. I see him as I did the end of the first night we met, reflected to me from the mirror, appearing as if from nowhere like he's always belonged there. I turn around and he looks up at me, big blue eyes framed by Bambi-long eyelashes. He looks so open and so kind, like he's showing me his heart. I remember the way he looked when I first saw him tonight – like he was dead inside, like Blake had carved out his too big heart and replaced it with hard, brittle, metal. He's not a thing like that now. He's so alive I can taste it.

"Please, Bren?"

How I am supposed to resist him?

I pass him the cotton wool, turn around and he dabs at my broken skin. He leans closer to inspect and I can feel his breath warm against my back. His little finger drags over my naked skin and I shiver at the contact. He places his hand on my hip to turn me around. I feel my vibrancy for this boy, my passion for him whisper all over me, ignite every cell. My heart struggles against my ribcage and my lungs ache; and it's in our proximity that I realise I have been the living dead without him, existing with no oxygen and no heartbeat. I'm coming back now. My cock stirs alive and God I want him. I need to have his body small, warm, writhing and submissive under mine.

I blink slowly, take a calming breath.

Physical intimacy - it's always been my most potent drug. And yes, OK, it is different with Steven – is that what you wanted me to say? When he's as weak and vulnerable and manipulatable as he is.

I step back from him. I can't confuse him any more this evening. Sex should be the last thing on his mind. I need to be strong and supportive and honourable.

"You're a proper idiot, you." He whispers, as he trails over the fourth cut. "What the fuck did you think you were doing with Blake?"

The moment I open my eyes my entire being trembles. He's looking right at me, right into me and I get that feeling again like he knows me, like I don't have to speak because he knows all the words inside me.

So I tell him, "protecting you."

My mouth shapes the words into an everlasting vow, and he swallows hard, like he understands.

He presses a finger against my cheek, running up past the cut.

"It's Christmas Eve, you should be with the boys, not protecting me."

"I'm always protecting you, Steven," I whisper the lie my soul hopes can be true.

A smile brushes his lips like a kiss, fuck I want to taste it.

He looks at me through half-mast eyelashes.

"Are you gonna stay?" He asks.

He means stay here and he means stay for the night . He asks it like the words are so big they almost hurt him, so I answer him in a heartbeat.

"Yes."

Our shallow and rapid exhales are mutual, identical. We both know the exact moment the oxygen disappears from the room.

"But you'll be needed at home won't you?"

"You're always front of the queue Steven, you know that… In the bedroom-" I say and tilt my head to the side - indicating the bedroom opposite the bathroom – my bed for the night, on the floor above his.

Sleeping in the same bed is a risk neither of us should take.

He looks like he doesn't know whether to be vexed, confused or excited and I think back on my words and mentally rage a war against myself – that's not even what I meant to say. I'm failing myself.

I look down at him, his innocent damaged being.

Fuck he looks so breakable.

"Sorry," I hesitate quickly, "I mean, I'll be in the bedroom opposite."

He smiles, his lips dancing seductively, I can't take my eyes from them.

"In a different room? What would be the point in that?" He asks.

"Steven-"

I try to resist but he places a finger against my lips. And then he silences me for good, taking a step back, slowly stripping his shirt from his skin.

"What are you doing?"

"I really want a shower," he smiles, as the shirt falls from his wrists, exposing himself for me. "Joining me?"

And fuck I want to. You know I really want to. My body arches forward like it's it's own possession. But this is the last thing the boy needs. I can't be yet another person who's just here for sex - using him for the release he offers. I blink slowly, trying to think of the words to say to resist him without rejecting him.

His whole face goes into shadow and his eyes drop to the floor - in my silence I break him.

"Look-" I start.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." He smiles, dismissing my apology before it's even been given. "You don't have to say anything."

He looks to the door as words rage within me – all these words I could say to him, all this honesty I could give him, if he wasn't him and I weren't me.

"I'd like to get changed in private though," he says eventually.

"Course," I say, nodding.

I step away from him; I feel my resolve shaking back into place in every muscle.

"Brady?" He asks, calling me back and our eyes meet in the mirror, again bringing memories of that very first night.

"I know why you don't want me now, you know - It's cos I'm dirt, innit."

He smiles like that hideous question is rhetorical and closes the bathroom door.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:**

You guys! It feels like yesterday that me and Kabr were perfecting our celebratory dances for 100 reviews and now suddenly you all bought us up to 200! You're all so wonderful, and welcome to new faces and some old ones back as well! As I'm always saying loads of reviews make me work extra hard so here's chapter 17 extra early for all you awesome people :D

And as I said in the last chapter this chapter continues on in Brendan's POV – also not a lot happens because the stuff that doesn't happen is important, you'll hopefully see what that means!

Plus we're chucking a name in here who hasn't been mentioned yet, Kabr and I are currently in debate over who it should be he is mentioned again so let us know if you have any strong feelings (he is changeable).

Oh and I heard you all crying out for revenge, and Brendan will want to reap Ste's revenge eventually – but there's someone who let Brendan down first.

**Chapter Warnings:**

Angst;

Scenes of a sexual nature.

**Chapter Seventeen – Brendan Brady**

In the hallway I can barely move.

His words shoot through me like a poisonous arrow.

_"I know why you don't want me now, you know - It's cos I'm dirt, innit."_

It physically hurts when he says things like that – denies himself like that.

I lean my head up against the door, straining myself to think clearly. My blood's still pumping so hard all I want to do is give him what he asked for, but that would be as corrupt as leaving him. He needs to know that he's more than what he thinks he is. More than what Terry and Blake and all those men have shown him he is, more than what I've shown him he is. But I can't be the one to tell him. If he stays with me there's only one eventuality and I can't think about a world that he's not a part of.

I have made a deal with the devil and now I'm a heartless man at worst, and entirely helpless at best.

My knuckles crunch with dried blood – Foxy's small time con's and Blake's. There's too much out there that could damage this beautiful boy and the one thing I can think clearer than anything else is he needs to be kept safe. He needs someone to watch over him.

And there is no-one else.

I push the door ajar and see him standing in the shower. A river of water running down his glowing torso, shining deliciously from his skin. He is so fucking beautiful. My heart's already pumping a corrupt rhythm. I'm unnoticed as he turns towards the water and tilts his head into the flow. I strip slowly and push the door open quietly.

The moment my arm goes around his hip he falls back into me, as my name is whispered from those beautiful lips. His body curves into mine like I'm the only one keeping him upright. I take all his weight, press my chin into his neck and it's then I notice he's been crying. Not sobbing, not deep innocent body trembles as he did before on the roof, and in that room, and weeks back in my bed. But long rivers of tears down those beautiful cheeks. Like these tears are effortless expressions of anguish.

I give him the words he should hear every day.

"You're beautiful, Steven." I promise him and he swallows hard.

"You're beautiful and no matter what you do, no matter what happens to you, you always will be - inside and out." I give power to my words because I want them tattooed on his heart.

"And you're never, ever, gonna be dirt. I don't want you to say that ever again. Do you hear me?" I ask.

He nods, slowly.

He takes a moment as we stand here, a part of each other once more. And then his face turns to mine, his lips plaster to my skin, the stubble of my beard.

"No," I say moving my face away.

"Stop rejecting me," he orders like a plea.

"I'm not rejecting you," I promise. "I'm resisting you." _barely_!

His lips curve gently, "I don't want you to do that neither, me."

"Do you know why I am?"

I see a million reasons flicker in his eyes, and I see the underlying one that still hasn't gone away – there's still a cell of him that thinks it's because he's unclean.

I need to show him what I see when I look at him. I need him to know he's always the most beautiful boy in the room, and always will be.

"Let me show you," I tell him.

I bend down, pick up the sponge and lather it with the Imperial Leather. It's rose and sandalwood, Lynsey must have left it here the week she stayed with the footballer. The fact that it's hers gives this so much more meaning. She was the person to remind me of the light in me.

I stand up, run the sponge across my boy's tensed shoulders - feel the muscles flex under my touch. I cup against the base of his shoulder blade and push up, circling. I've done this once before of course, but that was before I really knew him. Now I know the scars of his soul this massage has so much more importance.

"What are you doing?" He whispers, his voice barely a breath, his eyelashes fluttering closed.

"I'm gonna bathe you," I tell him.

I continue to wipe the sponge over his back, running down his spine. His head tilts forward and I push up his neck.

I tempt the water against his golden, perfect body - washing away the memories of all those men, leaving him as fresh and as new and as innocent as he always should be. He's mine now. I trail my fingers between his; ease his arm up slowly; stroke the sponge over his skin. The water flows against his slight curvatures, and all the time I'm using my free hand to massage the tension away, allow his body to forget. I strip him clean slowly, polish my diamond in the rough.

I turn him around and run the sponge up over his pecs, along his shoulder bone, I move gently over his throat, cleanse away my own stupidity, my own corruption. He whimpers as I trace over the marks I left on his skin. Before thinking, I move my lips over the bruise that's formed, kiss his skin better like Eileen used to for my boys. A breath shudders through his lips. And I swear under my breath for my infidelity – kisses are for a different time.

I take a step back, but he begs, "don't stop."

His eyes are bright and wide and I can see the perfect eternal innocence in his soul.

"I won't," I promise him.

I bend down, place the sponge on the floor to pick up the shampoo. And then I stand up, scrape his hair, and tend to each strand. I'm careful of the repulsive marks that bastard left on my boy. At first I'm gentle and gradually harder as keens leave his lips. I massage his scalp and feel the tension release.

Finally I turn around, bend down and run the sponge up his thighs, across his arse. Knowing he doesn't see the act as sexual now, knowing he's close to understanding. I clean over his ankles, up his claves and thighs and into the curve of that beautiful arse. I ease him around one final time and he cups his cock, hiding from me, this expression on his face like he's guilty.

"Steven?" I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

He drops his hand and reveals barely a response. I hardly manage to hide the laugh, but he smiles at the mirth in my eyes – he will always know all the thoughts inside me.

"I'm proper trying!" He says "it just..it feels kinda good."

"You're resisting," I tell him, my tone praising him.

I run the sponge quickly over his balls, his cock, causing the tiniest of moans to fall between his lips.

"Good boy."

I stand up and he smiles as he sees I'm in exactly the same state. Of course I am - how can I not react to him?

I push the clean hair back from his eyes, lay my forehead to his. This position that feels like home. He leans a minute fraction closer towards me, I can feel his eyelashes flutter against mine now, and my heart starts to race. A water droplet slides between us, and I reach up to drag it away, my fingers catching the smooth perfect carving of his cheekbones. I catch my breath and all my fucking sense on his beauty. I slide my hand down his cheek, to his jaw and he angles his head to my palm, our noses rubbing together; and I can almost feel the warmth and softness of his mouth against mine, it would take less than a movement for us to be kissing. On impulse my thumb maps that bottom lip, his lips part, his tongue so close to my skin. I can feel him shiver, shivering in the pleasure of us.

But that's not the lesson I'm teaching him is it?

I step back from him, shaking sense back within.

"Bren-" he starts to protest.

But the moment I open my eyes he nods. And although his body's struggling to cool he breathes deep - mastering this skill I've taught him.

I reach behind him and turn the shower off. Step out, quickly tie one of the towels around my waist and beckon him further toward me. I wrap the other over him, dry his skin with fluffy cotton.

"Why have I resisted you, Steven?" I ask, fuck I hope he knows.

His eyes drop down, his eyelashes fluttering, his lips curving into the blush in his cheeks, "because I'm important."

I can't help the thrill that passes through me at the proof that my act has worked. He can see himself differently now I've stripped him bare of his past, bathed his skin in protection. I push the hair back from his eyes, stroke over his face.

"Good bo-" I start to praise him but his finger presses hard against my lips.

"You say things like that and you make it proper impossible, Brady," he warns, laughing.

He removes his finger hesitantly.

He looks down at our matching towels and the weight beneath.

"Though I think you're kinda worse off than me right?" he says indicating how much my towel is tented right now.

He steps closer again, his sweet scent rushing over me. He gives me that look from underneath his eyelashes.

"Are you sure you don't want to?" He asks.

I laugh at him, shake my head and grab him by the hips, firelift him over my shoulder.

"cheeky fecker aren't you?" I say, slapping his arse.

I carry him to bed, to sleep.

***M&K***

He sleeps tucked into my arm as he always used to. He looks peaceful and relaxed - dreams fluttering across the Eden of his face, his eyelashes playing with the twitch of those bee stung lips. God I could watch him for hours – but there's something else I have to do. I lean him back into the bed and climb out. Dress and drive off into the night.

Simon Walker lives in a housing estate in the middle of Chester. The lock on his door is rusty and old. I keep telling him these are things he needs to change. Being the men we are, and even more importantly doing the work he does, safety should be priority. But he thinks he's above protection – like he's the fucking police or something. Anyway these things are to my advantage tonight. As is the fact he lives alone. I put on my black leather gloves, slide the metal release under the lock and let myself in, creep into his house.

The moment I step over the threshold is the moment I start to feel dizzy, lightheaded, a little less like me. I struggle to control the flex of my fingers. I trusted Walker to take care of one of the most precious things in my life and he failed me. He let me fail Steven. The monster I am breeds on the anger inside me.

My legs shake as I walk into his bedroom. Walker looks almost the exact opposite of Steven when he sleeps. His hair messed about over the pillow like it's trying to get away from his head, his features curled like he's disgusted with himself. Straight out on his back. Snoring, loudly.

I press one glove hand down on his forehead, trapping him in place as I pinch his nose, cover his mouth banning him from oxygen.

"Jesus, what the fuck? Brendan!" He moans, choking back to reality.

"I asked you to do one simple thing, Walker, didn't I? One simple thing!"

My hand seeks the warm flesh under his chin, fingers ready to clasp at his jugular in case he needs a warning.

He tries to fight me off so I move my body over him, sitting hunched over his hips. He nods quickly.

"What was it?"

"To, to keep an eye on Ste Hay."

"And what did you do?" I demand.

He sighs deep, "what is it about that boy anyway, eh Brendan?" He asks, "you that desperate for a twink?"

"He's not a twink."

"He's a seventeen year old kid! A scally, council rat who's-"

That's the last thing I remember being said.

***M&K***

Afterwards, I sit on Walker's doorstep. The cold night air whispers into my lungs. My aching, sore muscles tell me that I got revenge.

I order my thoughts into some form of sense. I can feel the way my hand clasped over his face to shut off his blasphemous words. I can see his eyes as he stared at me, clearly frightened but something else in their depth – in my memory the pupils are sparked like fireworks. I can hear his laugh, so I know he taunted me. But I know nothing else at all.

I was not in control of a single thing in that house. I was physically dominant but I had become the monster inside me - I was all his and none of mine.

And I don't remember a thing.

***M&K***

I tiptoe back into my flat, slide into the bedroom. Steven's asleep on his front, spread across the bed – his head rested into my pillow. The duvet's barely covering him, the white linen just draped over that taut arse which is somehow still tanned. He insisted on sleeping in just his boxers like sharing a bed wasn't enough torture. He looks ridiculous – like some sort of model.

There are a few sights I will remember as perfect throughout my lifetime. Katy's eyes as we shared our first kiss. The way Trevor looked as I lay entirely fucked out for the first time. Eileen as she beamed like very pregnant sunrays walking down the aisle. Declan's first step as he held my finger. And this. Seeing Steven like this. It feels like I was always supposed to see this and as I slowly strip down to just my boxers it feels like I've come home to him.

I press my hand to his back, and his skin is ice cold. I pull the duvet up quick, and jump into bed next to him, pull him to me. He doesn't mind being cold when he sleeps but I hate that he does it, I hate that he could ever leave himself unprotected. As I wrap my arms around his hips I feel the flutter of his eyelashes blinking open.

He hums as he settles into my chest.

"Where have you been?" He asks.

I take my thumb and smooth out the worry in his brow.

"I just had to sort something - it's nothing for you to worry about, I promise." His eyes study mine and I know I have to get him to think of something else so I say, "give us a kiss, gizzakiss."

And he beams and presses his lips just once to mine, sweet treasured moment of bliss. He shucks into me. There's silence and it's comfortable now, next to him I can let it happen.

"Bren?"

"Hmmm."

He chews the corner of his lip as he looks at me, like he's covered in uncertainty, I know I shouldn't have left him.

"Do you want me to stay? I mean I can go – you know if-"

Fuck.

"Steven." I rush, clasping his head in my hands, shutting off his words, I can't even think about them. "I'm not letting you out of my sight OK?"

He smirks a little at my insistence, "OK."

Then his eyes darken like he's speaking of a soul shadow.

"Even with-" He looks down at himself, "the illness?"

"Steven, it's chlamydia! It's insignificant," his eyebrows furrow and I correct myself, "that's the wrong word, but it is treatable you know. After Christmas we'll take you to a proper doctor, get the correct drugs and in a couple of years we'll forget you even had it." My impulsive, impudent words are like a magnifying glass for the thought I feared to be true - the certainty that I can't conceive a future without him. Neither of us need to know how deep my feelings go so I backtrack quickly. "What I mean is Chlamydia is curable, what's incurable is-" what? My feelings for you? Societal norms? A life with me?

But he doesn't see the darkness in my soul or doesn't want to. He just leans up, presses his lips to mine briefly, and exhales like he's been holding a breath. There's this adorable smile on his lips and he just makes this all feel normal.

"You're home now," I tell him, stroking his hair back from his face. "Go to sleep OK?"

He settles back into my chest, and then pauses, "you gonna be here when I wake up?"

I press my nose into his hair, breathe him in, and give him my answer, "yeah."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

And he closes his eyes and he's out like a light – like it's with that knowledge that he can drift into dreams. Like he knows I protect him.

My phone vibrates a text on my bedside table

From Walker: Was fun dancing with you, partner.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:**

Beautifully beta'd and some sections co-written by the amazing Kabr :D

Thank you so much for the support for the last chapter :D All the reviews were really fun to read - I love it when you all have theories! This chapter has a massive Walker shaped blackhole in it, but he will be back mwahahahaha!

**Chapter Warning:**

One of my favourite reviewers said I should add health warnings to this fic like you get on cigarettes so, in her honour: reading can seriously harm you and others around you.

Angst and smut and scenes some readers may find disturbing.

Oh and a pretty long chapter.

**Chapter Eighteen – Ste Hay.**

I sleep dead well. Proper deep and dreamless, like I aint in ages. And I wake up to him, to Brady. To his scent, and the heat that always rises from him, and the feel of his strong arm wrapped around me and that growling snore type thing he does. And it just feels normal. It's easy to forget about hell when you're back in heaven. So I turn around and press a kiss to his chest, and one to his lips. He tastes slightly different. I don't really notice at first - it's only sommit really subtle, or faded, but he aint exactly like him. There's something weird about his scent too. And then I remember him leavin' last night, when I was asleep, and coming back dead secretive and then I remember everything else.

Everything.

It all hits all at once like it's a seven tonne lorry pounding into me. And what crashes hardest is that it's Christmas, it's Christmas day and I'm not with my bro and sis.

I ruined my whole family. I let 'em down.

Suddenly I'm proper hot and I can't really breathe next to Brady so I peel meself away, out of bed. I know it's only cos I'm selfish that I'm worried about the twins. They're in a better place now. So I try to clear em from my thoughts by taking a look around. This house is smaller than Brady's other, only three bedrooms and two floors. This is the only room with anything in it, a long full length mirror, a telly and a load a pictures of the boys with different grownups. I take a look at a couple – Bren fishing with Dec, Bren pushing Paddy on a swing. But then looking at em makes more memories of Leah and Lucas beat in my brain. I can't see nothin' but em so I do what I do when memories block like that. I draw.

I find some paper shoved underneath a photo frame, grab a pen and go sit in the lounge by the window - it's cooler over there.

It turns into a drawing of last Christmas, when Leah and Lucas came to jump on me bed dead early. They always wanted to sleep in the same bed Christmas Eve and whoever woke first would wake the other. They'd sneak into the lounge to check their stocking, before waking me to look under the tree. They were so excited Santa had been. It was just some tatt I stole from Asda but it made them so 'appy.

I remember Leah sayin', "I was certain I'd been good this year!" with the biggest grin on her face, and then she teased, "weren't sure about Lucas though, me!"

I spent all morning helping em set up their toys, keepin em safe as they messed about, letting Leah make me look like a princess. I stuck on Santa Clause: The movie so they didn't wake mum and Terry and we ate all the chocolates from their stockings, Lucas kept getting a load of chocolate all around his face and told me it tasted better that way. I cleaned em up before Terry woke and made brekkie for us all. That night I got a black eye from Terry for me trouble – I'd been overstepping my place again. I used to think that he couldn't make anything hurt more than a black eye.

"Alright?" Brady asks, his voice all gruff like when he's just woken up.

I didn't notice he had gotten up, or that he had come over, stood just behind me. I'm pretty embarrassed about the drawing, I mean dead girly innit? And it's not even like I'm that good. No-one really knows I do this- other than Leah and Lucas and a couple of teachers. I definitely don't want Brady to see it. So I turn it upside down and put me foot on it. He bends down and I'm pretty certain he's gonna make me show it him.

But he don't. He just tilts my chin with his thumb like. Looks deep in me eyes. Gives me that look, you know that look like he can see inside me, right into me and that what he sees don't repulse him. I remember how he made me feel last night, like its OK to be upset, OK to cry cos it don't make me weak and I can still be not bad.

"Morning," he whispers, still looking at me like that.

I try to smile because he's done so much for me so the least he deserves is me being polite. But me thoughts are still with the twins, and I don't feel much but empty.

But Bren just sort of scoots around, scoops me between his legs, like a big proper hug. He leans his head to me shoulder. We're silent for a moment, both looking out over the houses. It's snowed a little in the night, staining the rooftops like washing powder. I hope that whatever Leah and Lucas are waking up to right now it includes this – they'd be dead excited. They proper love snow.

I remember back to a few years ago when the twins were, I think they were 5 – old enough to know what snow is. It were just after Christmas, still not back at school. It snowed proper loads and we went out and laid down making snow angels. I will never forget the smiles on their faces. We made a massive snowman – took us ages, like. I nicked Terry's scarf and hat and we had a carrot for his nose. We walked home, one each side of me so they could hold me hands.

I remember Lucas sayin', "this has been the best Christmas day ever!"

Leah laughed at him told him, "duh it was Christmas two weeks ago!"

And Lucas stuck his tongue out said like proper bossy, "it's Christmas day if all your Christmas dreams come true!"

Leah smiled and nodded, and they both said they were dead happy.

Bren brings me back to him with a quiet whisper in me ear, "they'll be OK, Steven. All their Christmas dreams will come true today."

He just proper knows me, don't he? Always.

***M&K***

Me and Brady sat there for a while, chattin' random memories about Christmas, it's nice hearin' him talk bout his boys – you can tell he proper likes bein' with them. Eventually though I needed to wake meself up so I went for a shower, I aint asked him to come with me this time. Before I left though he wrapped his arm around me dead tight, just once, just to say bye.

The moment I pick up the shower gel I can smell last night. I remember him so well it's like I can feel him. It felt like he was melltin away everything that makes me bad, every evil thing I've ever done and every fight I've ever been in, and every time I've had that thing that's not sex. He's always looked at me like I could be more than I was, could be worth something, could be good – and last night he made me feel that.

I got a little desperate though. Cos he wouldn't really touch me, like. And he's still not, so it's not really gone away. I'm this spring he's coiled and forgot to unwind.

He's different from everyone I've ever met. I get turned on whenever we do anything, even if he's just washing me! Whenever he smiles at me all I wanna do is pull him close and let him show me this world that's perfect. We've fucked in like every single position, in basically every single place but I can't ever imagine a time when I won't want more.

I proper get why he's waitin' before we do anything though. He don't wanna risk nothin' does he? But it don't help that we shared a bed, that he hugged me to him when he slept, that he keeps looking at me like that, touching me like that.

My hearts proper beatin' hard now as I think of him, and the memory's sort of heavy on me. I know, without opening me eyes, that I'm rock hard. I think about callin' him. It feels weird bein' in his house, just me and him, when I'm about to do this solo. But I know if I did call him he'd just look stressed out, he don't want nothing from me till I'm cured.

And anyways he's given me plenty of memories. I flip through them, thinking of em all and find one of me best. That time when we came back together after all that stuff with Mr Fox, you remember? That was the night Brady taught me about me body, what to do to proper pleasure meself. The first time I ever really knew meself. And all the time he was talkin he was touchin himself too - through his suit.

I'm dead hard now, just thinkin' bout it. So I run a finger down me cock and as I do I can see the way he smiled that night. He has this smile when he's proper turned on, like his lips turn up and his teeth bare and his eyes narrow and he looks like, I dunno, like you think the devil would. And he's fucking sexy. I fucking love that smile so as I touch myself I imagine it. But it's changing… it's changed…

Fuck.

It's not Brady I can see no more. The person I can see behind me eyes ain't Brady. Instead it's not somebody I ever wanna see again - it's the bloke who broke inside me, wrecked me and made me disgusting.

That other bloke makes me stomach tense and I wretch with panic. But I won't let him take this from me. So I need to get rid of every trace of him, I need him to disappear.

I pick up the shower gel, squeeze too much and release that scent, like sweet but manly, innocent but experienced and when I squeeze me eyes proper shut I focus on Brady and he's all I can see, and he stays and he smiles and it's all for him.

***M&K***

After the shower Brady's on the phone. He smiles as he sees me but it sounds like he's having an argument of some kind, he's saying like, "yeah I know Chez, look I'm sorry but… no there's nothing more important."

So I leave him to it. Take a look around the house. In one of the spare rooms there's a cupboard with a couple of jumpers and trousers in it. One of the jumpers makes me smile - it looks like sommit Lucas used to have when he was small, but big like. It fits so I keep it on. Just that and me boxers, don't bother with nothin' else before goin into the kitchen to make us breakfast.

Brady comes to the kitchen not long after and we smile at each other.

"What is that?" He says looking at the bowl in front of me.

I look down at the pancake mix which I know will be proper rubbish, but he only really had eggs and flower.

"Pancakes."

"That's pancakes?"

"I've never made them before right, you should have got some more food in!"

He settles his hands on mine, on the bowel. I can like feel the tension flow out of me, into him as he fills me with confidence. I look up at him and he smiles, like he's tellin me it's OK. It's OK to fuck things up, to be rubbish cos I will still be good.

"Do you want a hand?" He says, and then like before I even think of an answer he starts whiskin'.

He works in silence for a while and then I feel his eyes linger on me, he kinda looks like he's laughin'.

"Wha'?"

"What are you wearing?!" He asks, shaking his head a little.

I look down at myself, this white knitted jumper with random red and blue diamonds on it, "found it in the spare room – fitted so thought I could borrow it."

"There are a lot of clothes you could have borrowed, Steven – and you chose that?!" He asks raisin' an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with it?"

He shakes his head again, breaking another egg.

"It's hideous!" He smirks.

"Hey I like it, it looks kinda cute."

He glances over me. I'm not wearing owt but the jumper and boxers right? And he spends a long time looking at my arse – always used to do that. Wasn't sure I was gonna see him do it again after last night. But now I can feel the fire in his eyes - he's losing that resistance.

"You always look kinda cute, Steven." He breathes in that way that makes me smile, like he's inhalin me. My hearts beating so fast now, we've not even proper kissed yet but there's a look in his eye like a promise. "But that jumper is hideous! I keep it here for a reason."

"Why do you have it then?"

"My sister gave it me."

"It fitted you?"

"I hot washed it!" He laughs, "on purpose."

It's kinda sweet that he would keep anything his sister gives him – even if he'd go out of his way to ruin it. He has this softer side you know? It hides a lot but I think there's nothing he wouldn't do for those he cares for.

Like rescuing them from drugs, and homelessness and sellin'?... Possibly.

He's still lookin at me, but he's closer now. He's wearin' that proper posh aftershave. He's in this dark suit and he looks kinda smooth – despite the tie. He keeps lookin at my lips.

So I hook a finger under his tie, black silk, and pull him closer to me, like I'm leanin' in for a kiss but just before I whisper, "she give you this as well? Or was that Paddy?"

I let him go and he laughs, smoothin' out the tie.

"This, Steven, is class!"

"It's got snowmen on it!" Little gold snowmen.

"It's Christmas!"

"You can't use that as an excuse for everythin'"

"Really?" he chuckles, and then he puts on this proper scally accent, "mistletoe innit Bren?!"

"Right if that was supposed to be me it was a dead bad impression!"

It was a dead good kiss though, and I know we both know it – now were both thinkin' bout it too.

We're lookin' at each other, dead on, and it's like we're playin' a game – cos we both know we're gonna kiss but I'm not gonna be the one who does it first this time.

"You know Steven sometimes you're too cheeky for your own good." He whispers but I know he don't proper mean it, he likes it when I tease him.

So I keep my eyes on him, bite my lip and look at him dead low, run my eyes down his body. This resistin' he's try'na do might be quite fun.

"Why? What would be good for me?" I ask, implyin' only one thing.

He just raises his eyebrow, shakes his head smilin' like he's got a dead good joke. He walks away to put a pan on the stove and melt butter.

"Do you know how to toss?"

I can't help but smirk a little at his question, my mind playin' dirty.

"Do you know how to toss. A. Pancake, Steven?" He asks, rolling his eyes at me.

And I'm pretty sure I could if I tried but I want him to show me. So I shake my head, my hands claspin around the pan handle. He comes up behind me, his hands either side of me on the pan. Our fingers brush and my skin burns with the intensity, and he sort of breathes in proper deep, I can feel all his muscles move. He's talking me through how to toss but I can barely follow his words. Then his nose runs up my neck, into my hairline, and I can barely follow anything at all cos my hearts started a marathon.

"You smell of that shampoo," he says his voice proper deep.

"I took a shower," I say stupidly, he still makes me dumb so quick.

But then his fingers are on my chin and he's angling my face towards his.

"Nice time?" He asks, looking deep at me like he knows.

My cheeks burn proper red and I nod, my eyes unable to leave his lips, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone as much as I want him right now. I'm not sure I can take anymore resistin', I'm a lot more weak then he reckons.

He coughs at the back of his throat and puts the finished pancake on the plate, getting ready for another. There's more distance between his body and mine now, so I wiggle back into him, and he tries to hide the moan that's instinctive. I can feel him hard against me and my skin ties tight. I feel him sparkle over every cell.

"Fuck Steven," he curses right into my neck. "Do you even know how much you're testing me right now?"

"Then give in," I whisper.

I sway my arse against his cock, we fit dead well. He growls like down dead deep, he remembers, too.

"I don't want you to think you're just here for sex, or I'm just here for-"

"I don't think that."

"No?" He asks, and I can hear the sex in his voice now.

He leaves one hand on the pan and presses the other to my stomach, shucks up the jumper. Trails down to my boxers, his fingers pressing against me.

"Even when I do this?"

He runs a finger down the entire length of me, dead slow so I feel proper big, and my head drops down, I forgot how amazing I feel when he touches me.

"Steven?" He asks, proper impatient.

"It means more don't it?"

I feel his lips smile against my neck and he presses a kiss.

"Do you want this?" He always asks don' he?

I nod, my eyes fluttering shut, "please."

His hand turns the hob off. And then he proper cups me, squeezing against me and I think I might explode in just a moment, it's so intense.

"I caught you in the shower, fucking cheeky lad, God you looked magnificent," he says and you can proper hear it now, what these last few hours have done to him, how much he needs me.

"Wanna know who I was thinkin' about?" I ask, confident now his hands are on me.

I can feel him smile against my neck, proper cocky like he already knows.

"Think I already know, don't I, Steven?"

He takes a bite of my skin, I feel my skin sucked into those lips, the dent of his teeth, and can't help the moan that's hard and long. He groans proper deep, his hips rolling against mine.

"Jesus Steven, what you do to me."

"Kiss me," I beg, and he tangles my hair in his free hand, yanks my head around.

He stares at me, long and deep in my eyes, his hand still flexin and tightening around my dick, his own cock still swayin' against me arse. It feels like he stands there for ages, just looking at me, holding our kiss away for hours. But then when his mouth clashes to mine it's proper quick and proper hard, like he's impatient, like he needs to take all of me right now.

Fucking finally!

He takes me by the shoulders, and hoists me round, manhandles me through the kitchen to the bedroom. I give as good as I take, pushing off his jacket, pulling at his hair, his shoulders, his arse, everywhere I can get my hands on. Cos everywhere I touch wakes me up with memories. He's well fit. His body is so fucking perfect, hard and warm and I can feel the strength ripplin' through him.

I arch up into him, fittin on impulse even after all this time. It's like our bodies have never forgotten each other.

We sort of fall up against the wall outside the bedroom, just kissin and kissin and kissin. Kissin like we're trying get rid of all the time and all the distance and all the people that's kept us apart. Kissin like we're try'na create our own world.

My lips are kinda sore with how desperate this is, and I can feel his tache burn my skin but I wanna be marked with him.

My hips are arching and bending, I'm proper rubbing myself against him, feelin' the dent of his cock against me own, and his thighs widen as I press my hip between them.

He severs our lips. His breath flushes proper hard against me. He growls, his eyes flash like he can barely stand the thought of the distance between us. Our foreheads rest together.

"We're right next to my bedroom, Steven," he says his voice is so fucking sexy when he's this turned on. "Seriously – the bedroom's fucking there," he says his hand slammin' up against the wall as if he could knock the thing down and then we'd be at his intended destination.

"So? Not like we need it."

He grins like I'm bein' dead hot and shakes his head.

"It's been too long for a rushed grope," he says, "I need to taste every part of you, I need to know you."

"You do know me," I tell him, but I know what he means, I wanna remember every part of him too. So I bite me lip, scoot underneath his arm, reach for his hand and whisper, "take me to bed, Bren."

And he smiles at me like I'm perfect, this gorgeous grin spreading over his thin lips.

We walk hand in hand to the room and it's kinda, I dunno, sweet, I guess, like innocent. There's this anticipation in the air, but we don't stop to kiss or touch or nothin' till I close the door.

"So, where do you want me?" I ask I can feel my lips bend into a smile.

His eyes narrow for a split second like the question makes him angry, but almost like I imagined it this proper big beam goes all over his face.

"Just stay right there."

I lean against the door and he seems to take forever as he comes toward me. He undoes his tie as he goes - drops it out of his hand the moment it's undone, like it's already forgotten.

"That jumper," he says tiltin' his head to the side, "is fucking ugly, it's almost a sin that it's covering something so-" he beams, his smile like proper broad, "perfect."

He takes hold of it and lifts it away. Each move is slow, I can see his muscles tremblin' with the waitin' but it's like he needs to take a mental photo of every second.

"Perfect."

He drops the jumper to the floor and his hands run back down my torso, down my skin, over my ribs to my hips.

"So fucking perfect," he tells me and I feel it when he says it. "Touch me, Steven."

I undo his flies dead quick, and he shucks out of his suit trousers, his boxers, steppin forward so we're touchin. His naked cock touching mine through my boxers and fuck I can barely breathe past the knot of tension in me. I run my thumb over him and he grits his teeth like the pleasure's instantaneous, like he's as strung out as I am.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He whispers, dead low so it's not much but a growl.

I nod quickly, my word falling easily, "please."

His finger slides under my boxers, slides deeper, slides so I can feel a feather light touch around my hole. My mind is full of Bren, every sense of him, but my body remembers the past few weeks and it tenses on impulse. I need them little helpers.

He pulls away, his forehead resting against mine.

"It's OK, I'm gonna take you really slowly," he promises.

But I don't think I can stand that, I want him in me now - I want his cock to ache through me so I can forget about any other – so sex can be beautiful again.

"I have ah! I have some huff in my pocket," I say, unable to take my lips off him for even a second, "I'll be alright with that."

He cups my head with his hands, severing my lips from his skin.

"What?" He bites the word like it's dead hard.

"Some poppers, we can share if you like."

He moves back. He's staring at me like the words I'm sharing are disgusting, like my voice is trickling through him and making him sick.

"Poppers?"

"Yeah, ever had it?" I say, he looks angry.

He's proper weird 'bout drugs, like he don't make worse, or don't want to. He's looking at me like he's scared but he don't need to be – I move to pick up me hoody from the floor by the bed, grab the bottle and show it to him.

"It's good, look – it's dead 'armless."

"I can't believe you're saying this Steven."

His blue eyes turn to stone – like the fires gone now and all he is is disappointed.

"Well how else did you think I was sleeping with them men? Some came in like proper pumped up and I had to be re-"

"And that's what this is to you?"

"Don't be stupid," I say, trying to pull him to me.

He just steps away, opens the bedroom door - trying to break away from me. I feel panic proper pound in my heart. He can't walk out on me. It's all I can do to stop meself from whimpering.

"Stupid," he whispers, almost like he's talking to himself. "That's exactly what this was, this," he wags a finger between us.

He stares at me from over his shoulder for proper ages, and I can see this wars goin on inside him, he's tearin himself to pieces.

He pushes his hands up over his face, dead stressed. This could all be dead simple though, how can something we both want this much be difficult? But maybe it's cos he don't really want me. Maybe it's cos he don't really want me and I ask for too much, maybe its cos last time I called it making love.

His back's to me as he asks himself, "how can I be such an eejit?"

"For wanting me?" My voice breaks, I can't stop it.

"No," he says quick.

He looks right at me. His eyes are like dead blue, like a sunny summer sky. He looks happy, like he likes how he feels about me, like he wants to want me. But then he sighs proper deep like that's the problem.

"No Steven. Not for wanting you, I'm never gonna stop wanting you," he promises. "I'm an eejit for taking you."

But that don't make no sense right?

"I'm giving myself to you!" I tell him.

My hands sort of reach for him, I have nothing to give him. But he blinks slow like I'm all he could need.

"Bren," I purposefully give him that nickname he asked for, I hope it does as much to him as it does me. "Bren, I'm all yours."

He screws his eyes tight together, and I know he's trying to cool down, but I won't let him. I feel that power he thinks I have, so I ask him, "when you saw me in the shower what did you do?"

"Shut up, just-"

He raises his hands like he wants to fight but as soon as his gaze meets mine I see his eyes like lighten. We're this part of each other now, he can't help but relax the moment he looks at me.

"Did you get off too?" I whisper dead silent, and I wonder what I would have done if I'd caught him like he caught me.

I can see his answer in the twitch of his lips, so I continue.

"You do know you're the only person I ever think about? Just give this up – all I wanna do is share a little," I say, indicating the bottle in me hand.

"You don't need it with me," he says his voice pleadin', and I know exactly what to do now.

"Don' I? Then prove it," I challenge him.

He smiles with that devil smile and crosses the room quickly. He's marched over to me in a second, taken the bottle out of my hand and thrown it across the room. You can see his power in every inch of him.

He grabs my face, hands proper hard on my cheeks, and kisses me like he's never gonna stop - like he'd suffocate before giving me up. No-one kisses like him.

His entire body pushes me back and I can feel his mirror cold against my skin. His hand presses against my stomach, runs down, down, down, his fingers trailing into the waistband.

"Steven?" He asks, his eyes still closed, barely lifting his mouth from mine to release the word.

"Please!" I whimper.

And then he touches me properly. The touch is like an electricity bolt through me. I loose sense of everything for a moment, just the single point of pleasure. I can barely cope but it's him that's moanin' like he needs this.

"Moan for me, Steven," he whispers and then his thumb dips up over the head of my cock and like I have a choice when he does that right? My keen is so fucking loud.

He grips me hips and turns me around, slams me back into his front. And Jesus he was hard before, when we stood in that kitchen and made pancakes, but this is something else, he's fucking desperate for me. He steps back a brief distance and I follow him like we're fucking glued together. Me eyes are still closed, all I need is his touch.

"Open your fucking eyes," he commands.

I do and see us.

Fuck.

I see _us_.

I almost forgot about the mirror. It wouldn't matter where we were as long as I could feel and hear and smell and taste him. But we look fucking amazing together. His strong white arms wrapped over my waist so you can barely see any of my skin, I'm just a tanned outline to his masculinity, a border to him like a shock difference.

"Look good don't we?" He asks.

His head dips towards mine and his tash runs against my jaw. He trails his thumb against my lips, and I suck at it, take it between my teeth – bite it and all the time he's giving me this fucking incredible grin.

"You really don't know what you do, do you, just look at yourself, Steven – what do you see? Look at the way you're eyes are flashing, look at the way I've left your lips, so fucking open and raw, do you have any idea what they do to me?"

He wraps his fingers around my chin - tilts my head down.

"Look at yourself," he insists.

He takes the hand from my mouth and strokes it down my cock, slipping my saliva with the pre-come. He makes me look at my cock in the mirror and I've been avoiding looking there aint I? I don't wanna see the evidence of Blake. I don't wanna see disease.

He steps back, pulls away a little so you can see more of me and less of him. So he's like revealin' me.

"So fucking perfect," he whispers, his voice like pure need. "Just look. Look at how hard you are, how your reaching for my hand," he speaks like I'm some fucking masterpiece and this weird thing happens when I listen to him talk. It's like I change in front of us. I don't see meself as disease, or Blake's possession, or something wrong and sordid and disgusting. It's like I'm almost proud, like I'm sexy. "Fuck that smile, you know don't you? You know you're beautiful."

And no I don't, but I know he thinks I'm beautiful. And I feel sexy when I'm this close to him, so I answer him with, "you make me feel beautiful."

He smiles, shakes his head slightly "no, I just open those gorgeous eyes of yours, show you who you are."

His eyes like flash dark, like he's thinking of fantasies and I know whatever he's thinking of I'll do for him – I wanna be that look in his eyes.

His voice is a lion's purr as he asks, "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

It's weird innit but the moment he says those words it's all I wanna do. I wanna know what it looks like when I do what he taught me. So I nod slightly, and he fucking growls, this dead sexy noise that I don't think I've heard before like it comes from the pit of his soul.

"Do it for me," he commands.

I take hold of me cock, dead slow, just softly at the head at first remembering his exact instructions that night by the fire.

"Jesus," he curses and his voice sounds like he could get off just from watchin' me. "I don't even have to tell you to tease, cheeky fecker. Magnificent. One day soon It'll be my mouth doing that to you, nothing but my mouth for hours and I'm gonna make you scream again, one day really soon," his words are dead quiet like he's not really saying them to me. And I know what he means, he means he would now if it weren't for Blake, if it weren't for me and my stupidity and my – my disease. I feel self-disgust wash over me again, but he says more. He says, "you're mine, Steven. No one's but mine – do you get it? You won't ever belong to anyone else," and I do – I feel owned by him, and I kinda like that, I want to be nothing else but his.

I can feel his eyes burn all over me, and as my hand proper gets to work I lean my head into his shoulder, but I'm still watching. Watching him watching me. And I've never felt like this. This feels intimate, like we're making love with just our gaze. He's starin' at me like he's never gonna look away, like he'll watch me forever and when he keeps looking I become sexy.

He's proper hard against my back, I can feel his cock nestle into my arse and I don't know what I want closer, my hand or his cock so I sort of arch for both.

"You're doing so well, good boy," he whispers, "just don't stop, don't stop till you want to come for me." His voice is gruff but silky and fuck I swear it sends shivers through me just with the sound of it, and it's almost enough to send me over the edge.

My focus narrows down till I'm nothing but me cock, all I can feel is my hand working hard over it, and my balls tightening and this is the moment right now. I'm proper burning up inside, and I know I'm gonna come, I feel it in my gut like a hunger. And I let my eyelashes flutter shut as I feel my hips start a rhythm into my hand. I can feel the climax rise like a tidal wave, big and looming.

And all the time he's saying, "good boy, good fucking boy, you're so fecking beautiful right now, keep touching yourself, keep thinking of me."

And then. Right fucking then. His hand grabs my wrist, stops me, and his fingers squeezes just beneath my balls. And I've never had that before. Anything like that. It felt like I was comin' but I didn't… I'm still as hard as fucking metal.

"What the fuck? What, what did I just do?" This panics rushing through me, I don't know if it's dumb or owt but what if this – me not coming, what if it's Blake and what he gave me? Like what if I can't come anymore.

"You came," Bren breathes into my skin.

I stare down at my cock, kinda ashamed of myself, how can I still be hard? I shake me head tryna clear it of this sex-high Brady's given me.

"You orgasmed, I stopped you from ejaculating."

"Why?" I ask quick, closin' me eyes, scared of the answer.

"Why do you think?" He asks, "How do you feel right now?"

And it's not until then that I take account of me body, you know everywhere other than my hard cock anticipating release. I stop and think about everything, the tightness inside me. I look at everything. Every cell is anticipating, but like relaxed, purring with release and excitement. His hand strokes against my stomach, down to my treasure trail - he's barely touched me anywhere proper but every part of me can feel him. Every cell of me wants him, and only knows him. And it feels like I just had the climax of my life.

I nod briefly, barely any energy, "g-good," I tell him.

"Just good?" He asks this cocky tone and my words leak from me.

"Fucking amazing, just like – like the hottest I've ever been innit?"

He places his lips to my neck, trails up to my ear, "you can say that again."

He takes hold of the lobe with his teeth, and I whimper long and hard, I'm still so fucking hard.

"Let go of yourself," he whispers, his hand on my wrists trails up and his fingers wrap between me own. "It's my turn now. OK?"

He waits for me answer and I nod rapidly, I need him to touch me.

"You're so fucking beautiful Steven, and when you come, properly come, nothing on God's earth looks like that – you're indescribable, and we're gonna stand right here and do this every day, I'm gonna show you this every day till you believe me."

"Every day?" I ask foolishly hoping this might be it now.

But he just kisses my cheek, takes away the blush, and his words are a promise, "every day. For now though you're gonna cool down before I make you do that once more, and then when your strung out and can't take anymore I'm gonna fuck you and make you climax, I'm gonna make you climax so hard you pass out. Does that sound OK, or would you rather huff that shit?" He smirks his eyes flashing with teasin'.

OK so I guess I don't need anything if I have him.

"You're a proper dick, you," I laugh.

And he come's back proper quick with, "you want my dick." He's leaning in me ear to whisper it and his voice is proper low and dripping with sex, reminding me just how true his words are.

I watch my cheeks get pink, and then he's grabbin' me by the hips, turning me around, pushing me back against the cupboard.

"Fuck I love how I can still make you blush," he like growls, before grabbing my lips again.

We kiss like that, like we're trying to climb into each others mouths. My hands reach down to his balls and I squeeze and make him moan for me. His cock is closer to mine now, our naked cocks so close to touchin'. I love that feelin, like his larger harrier cock rubbin against me own, his balls dragging up against me shaft.

"Wait, we need t-" his voice is so fucking tight as he opens the cupboard behind me, retrieving a condom.

Me eyes flash, I guess it's got easier to convince him to step things up.

"Look at that smile," he says, running his thumb over me lips, "I'm not changing the game, we just need to keep safe," his eyes are serious for a moment.

And it's pretty hard to escape what he means but it's OK, it's more like he's just talking to me about why I shouldn't drink, or smoke, or fuck dry - like it's about health and nothing more.

I look at him opening the wrapper and beam as I come up with me next move.

"Let me?" I say taking the condom from him, peelin' it over my tongue.

"Jesus Steven," he looks at me like I'm his fucking dream, "this isn't about me, I don't want you doing anything you don't – fuck!" I silence his words, grippin him by the hips as I turn us around and push him back into the cupboard, changing our positions. Surprise letting me have control over him.

I bend down quick, and push my mouth over him, the condom slipping off my tongue onto him. He's looking at me like I'm blowing his mind and I know exactly what I want to do. I go to work quick, loving the way he's stretching my lips, his moans. I love every little thing about Brendan Brady.

His fingers are grippin me hair, and I can tell I'm making him proper desperate now. I know he's so close to losing control and that's exactly what I'm aiming for. Brendan Brady is good at sex, he's good at control, he's good at soft and slow, but what he's really like when he's proper enjoyin himself is this. He's wild and untamed and just pure animal and that's all I want him to be. I hear the moment his whimpers get desperate, know when he's close to exploding, and pull back, jumping away from him to the foot of the bed.

His eyes are proper blown black like he's wild and he strides toward me in three quick steps, shakin his head. God he's so fucking sexy.

"That's not how this works Steven," he whispers his voice the sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. There's a danger running through him that wraps around my cock. "You're mine do you hear me?"

I'm quick but he's strong, he flips me over onto the bed, so my heads pressed into the pillow.

"I know what you want and I'm in control."

And I swear this was sexy, this was making me so high – I've never felt as desperate as I was two seconds ago. Two seconds ago. Two seconds ago my thoughts weren't anywhere but Brady, and me and Brady, and our history, and everything about us and how he makes me feel like no other man alive. And this is what I wanted innit?

Two seconds ago.

"Do you need to be taught another lesson?"

If I could think straight I would know that his voice is the same as it was when it was pulsing through me. And if I was here I would know that the feel of him is the same as when I almost climaxed. And if I could breathe I would know his scent is the same as it was this morning when I was desperate for his kiss. If I could breathe.

But I'm not here no more, this isn't about Bren. He's done it again, the other bloke, he's taken me away from this incredible moment with Brady, stolen our sex away from me. He's stolen me. How can I be Brady's when I've been wrecked by someone else?


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:**

A massive thank you to everyone who took the time to respond to our last chapter, as always amazing to hear everyone's theories – everyone's so different I hope we hit a happy medium! I hope we keep everyone guessing :D

Maybe a little naughty in saying this, but an extra special thank you to our guest Lola who responded not once but twice to the last chapter (in the same day) and as a guest we couldn't thank you in a pm but it means so much to us that you'd been thinking about our little plot enough to come and revisit! You're a star.

As always wonderfully beta'd by the beautiful and cleaver Kabr.

Away-ness again means the next bit won't be posted till 4/6 sorry to keep you all waiting! We'll try to get you at least two bits that week to make up!

There was a typo in chapter 14 (i.e. the date of the flashback in accordance with their ages etc.) I've changed it now – sorry if it's confusing! But obviously as Brendan is in his thirties he was in his teens in the 80s!

**Chapter Warnings:**

Erm this is a pretty mild chapter after those last ones, but obviously still with smut and angst.

**Chapter Nineteen - Brendan Brady.**

**1985.**

Katy and Brendan are 16, Trevor is 25.

I stare at my reflection in Trevor's bathroom mirror, the running water playing the melody of disgust washing from my skin. My finger's knuckle-white grip onto the sink and tap a dysfunctional bass.

Katy's earlier parting shot hums in high-pitched staccato from my memory, "Bren, look I know things haven't been great with us for a while, but I know today's…"

"Today's what Katy?" I asked; I kinda just needed someone to say it you know? It started last week - Ethan was laughing about some crap thing his Dad did, took one look at me and shut up. He don't get that a Dad like he was talking about is something I've never had, not a year ago, not ever.

"Well it's been a year today hasn't it, since-"

"Since what?"

"You're making this hard on everybody mate," Ethan butted in, with his arm protectively around Katy's shoulders.

"I'm making this hard on everybody? I am? I'm sorry was he your father? Did you even know him?"

"OK take it easy, Brendan," Ethan got defensive but I wouldn't say the rest anyway – it's all locked away, Warren gave me a pretty sturdy padlock for those thoughts.

"I just wanted to say I'm here for you, if you need to y'know," Katy continued. "So… don't do anything….stupid. Right. Fine. See ya."

She would define this as stupid. Me stood here, in this bathroom, this is stupid – and the progression of events that led me here she would definitely call stupid.

Trevor Royle is a drug lord, well not really a drug lord, more like _the_ drug lord. He's good looking in this devil may care sort of way. Most importantly he's looked at me like he'd like me to suck his dick ever since we met through his sort of business partner; my guardian - Warren Fox. I invited myself to Trevor's house - one intention clear, i.e. to get my brains, my bones and my memories fucked out of me hard and preferably through the arse. So why am I stood in the bathroom then? Sensible question, worthless answer. Because I'm stupid. Because I couldn't go through with it. Which is ridiculous, because it's been a year and I've enough alcohol and other shit in my system to forget my own name, and it's Trevor fucking Royle. But see the problem is I still wasn't able to get rid of the smell and face and voice of Seamus. I can't stop hearing that last sentence he will ever say to me. Because today is the day when it's been a year.

When the memories disperse, my cock's still making a valiant effort at being hard - on a mission to finally blow its load. My brain's clearly still not told it there's something wrong with today. Trevor, well let's just say he comes with a reputation so if my brain and my cock could communicate they'd have a pretty good night.

And the thing is I wanted to. I've really, really wanted to, for like a while now. And before I had to run in here and chuck it all up I really thought I was going to – I was going to have sex, sort of for the first time. Trevor's hand was on my arse, the other on the lube, his cock dangling hard right in front of my mouth. I wouldn't have set this whole thing up if I didn't want him to fuck me. And I did, I wanted him to fuck me. My cock leaps as if to say past tense is useless - I want him to fuck me. I can do this.

I drink a load from the tap - get rid of the taste of vomit; clear my thoughts from Katy; splash a load onto my face, cool my red cheeks and stinging eyes. Opening the door shows me Trevor - still sat on the bed, shirt off as I left him. He's looking impatient until he sees me, looks in my eyes and knows he's gonna get to fuck a sixteen year old arse – a sixteen year old arse he thinks is innocent.

But the problem is even when it's invisible you don't forget the ugly inside you. The more screwed up paths you take the more locks get put on that monster's cage – and in the end are you locking him away, or locking him in?

***M&K***

**Present**

"Jesus Steven, this isn't about me, I don't want you doing anything you don't – Fuck!"

Even when I'm talking Steven's smiling like there's no one in his entire universe like me. Like I make him feel things he's never felt for anyone else. Like I show him who he is and how powerful he can be. And then he's on his knees in front of me and he's sliding the condom on me in the way that only he knows how, talented tongue and those fucking lips everywhere. And I'm losing my mind, and my control is fraying but his eyes are smiling at me like that is the intended effect, like he wants me to lose it for him. There's been a volcano growling within me since last night almost ready to erupt and I'm so close to giving it all to him now. So close. I can feel the way he'd swallow when I'd come down his throat, feel the willing heat of those tight lips. Uh!

But then he moves back – pounces like a cat to the bed, and just sits, legs spread, cock hard and anticipating and waiting for me. So fucking beautiful, tanned skin, parted lips, ruffled hair. God I need to fuck him. He's made it my only impulse.

He smiles, his legs kicking the side of the bed like he's won something. Like this is a game and he's the winner, but that's not what's happening here.

"That's not how this works Steven, you're mine do you hear me?"

Possession - it's an instinct when you've lived a life like mine. When things get taken away from you in the blink of an eye you hold on to everything you can get. And he's giving me this. He's giving me himself. He's fought to release this part of me that's just impulse and reaction and sheer physical need. He smiles at me when I talk and his need for me is so blatant it stains the air. I'm over with him quickly, sleekly, he moves back but I'm stronger, I can control him, own him. And he needs to be owned, he's asked for it. I shove him down into the bed.

"I know what you want and I'm in control," I breathe – I'm so fucking high there's no turning back now. "Do you need to be taught another lesson?"

Does he say no? I'm not sure. If he does I miss it. In the shuffle of the bedclothes and the rush of blood pounding in my head I miss his simple whimper. If I feel him tremble I put it down to the heat rushing through him.

"You've asked for it Steven, I'm gonna fuck you now, I'm gonna fuck you so hard it feels like your minds splitting in two."

"NO!" I hear it this time.

I hear it and I can feel his body tense with it. His skin that was hard and wild and flushed is cold and clammy, sweaty, tensed. And he's shaking, impulsively. Trembling like that little boy who lost himself on the roof terrace last night. In the blink of an eye and the flick of a thumb my wild, challenging, passionate lover has turned into this little boy who's been left tarnished by the world. What the fuck have I done?

Guilt turns my stomach.

I stroke a hand down his back and he whimpers then. The worst sort of whimper possible. The whimper of a child being hurt. I'm hurting him.

He collapses onto the bed. I want nothing more than to hold him. But that four letter 'R' word battles about in my brain and I start to forget when this stopped being consensual.

"Hey, hey, it's OK, it's OK," I whisper not sure if the soothing words are for him or the untameable guilt inside me.

But eventually, when the tears subside, I feel him sniff and he moves into me. He presses his head into my chest, nuzzling closer like he's trying to hide. His body showing me he hasn't lost his trust in me. I place an arm over his back and he sighs, comfortably.

"It's OK," I tell him, pressing my lips into his hair. "It's OK."

I'm not even sure if he hears me. He's not here now – he's in the scarred shadows of his soul. We stay in silence, my hand strokes down his spine, and back up, shoulder to the curve of his lower back, nothing like before, just the embrace of protection.

I've scared people in bed before. I've gone too far in dominance and watched men's souls flash in their eyes as they fear for their safety. Back when I was exploring sex and everything it could mean, Vincent and I stretched the barriers of consent. At the end, when things got sour and he came back to me more than he should, I petrified him. But this is something else. I haven't scared Steven, these aren't the signs of my welts – this is the result of someone else.

There has only been one time in my life with any similarities. Our positions are mirrored now; it's me who's stepped into the shoes of the confused older man holding the frame of a child who has been used too much.

It takes Steven a good ten minutes to come back to me. I would think he had fallen asleep if I couldn't feel his rapid unsteady breathes echoing against me. They steady eventually, and then he looks up at me, framing eyelashes laced with tears. He blinks slowly and I know the word that he's forming.

"Don't," I tell him, pressing my fingers to his lips, "don't you dare apologise, Steven, you have nothing to be sorry for."

His eyelashes draw together, eyes narrow minutely, cutely - like he didn't know I can hear all the words in his head. And he nods, just once.

Then his eyes lower, run up my body.

"We could…" those eyelashes are flirting now, but I shake my head.

"Not now," I whisper, knowing the mistake Trevor made with me can't be replicated. I won't form another monster like me. I press my lips to his sweetly, just once, so he knows this isn't rejection. "We will again but not for a while."

He nods then those eyelashes blink slowly, I feel his shoulders hunch - defensive.

"Bren, I can't – I don't even want-" he starts to say, his words jumbled and difficult.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." I say and those blue eyes sparkle now that he knows I can read him. "I will be here when you're ready, OK?"

He nods again, and I kiss his warming cheek. He attempts a smile and then as though he knows he doesn't need to, he stops, forgetting his mask. He just takes my arm and wraps it around himself like a comfort blanket.

***M&K***

After forsaking the condom for the soft cotton of our boxers, I wrap the other side of the duvet around us. We just lay together, cocooned together. My fingers pushing from the jut of that perfect cheekbone and up through his hair. There's silence, that comforting type of silence. I need nothing other than this, my boy next to me, warming against me, relaxed and protected.

We barely move, bar one moment when he nuzzles into my chest, and smiles to himself, and says, "I can hear your heart."

Then, a while later, just as my mind is shutting off, his foot makes its way up between my legs, his knee nudging towards my groin.

"Steven."

"Is a while up yet?" He beams, that cheeky beam, there's still greyness in his eyes though – a tinge to the perfect blue. I'm not going to take him till he's ready to be given.

"Steven."

He nods, his lips squeezing together, disappointed for me, or him, or both.

"OK," he says.

I take hold of his jaw, bring his ear up to my mouth and I whisper deep into him, "so fecking beautiful."

He blushes and smiles, and we're exactly how we should be. His fingers map over my chin, spreading across the bottom of my tash like he's measuring it.

"You should go," he whispers.

I laugh, "you kicking me out of my own bed cos I'm refusing to have sex with you?!"

He feigns mild offence - hitting my arm as his lips form a perfect circle. "Yeah cos I'm the one that proper wanted it…" he laughs and adds, "you were proper turned on, looked like you hadn't had sex for weeks!"

"I haven't," I tell him and his laugh stops and he looks in my eyes and knows exactly what I mean. I haven't had sex since we said goodbye.

The sparkle in his blue eyes shows me clearly how much that means. But he quickly covers it with sass and a blush.

"What not enough-" I don't let him finish the sentence – I know his defence now.

"Plenty of opportunity, plenty of men, I've not been interested," I say, I keep my voice clear, needing him to know.

His eyes reach for mine again and sparkle a blue I've not seen, as he contemplates the idea he might be worth being faithful for.

He bites his lip, closes his eyes and asks, "don't? I mean I get it if you…but-"

"I won't," I promise him - there is no other man I want to be with.

He brings our lips together, kisses me forcefully and passionately, leaving his mark on me. I don't let it scare me, the intensity of this, I need him to know he's beautiful – I need to battle our monsters for us. We're in our cocoon now.

He presses his forehead to my chin as he pulls away, says, "you have to go cos it's Christmas Day."

"Shit!" I'd completely forgotten.

***M&K***

As he kicks me out of bed he gives me a lasting kiss that's like a spell - causes my thoughts to trail onto him at every red light, and makes me want to turn around at every bend. It's one thirty by the time I arrive at home. I promised Chez I'd be eleven at the latest. The new red bike I bought Paddy is already set up in the drive way, I'm the worst sort of father. I let myself in and there's voices coming from the lounge so I pause to listen, you get cautious when you live the life I have.

"You're a good friend but you don't have to pretend you liked him," Cheryl is saying, "it's just whoever he was to the outside world, he was a really good Dad, he never left us waiting till one on Christmas day, sometimes I wonder how he made a son who is so selfish." I feel her words snarl at my soul, a comparison of fathering skills leaves a lot lacking - Cheryl's father Seamus Brady was nothing at all like mine.

"What is it you guys say?" The other voice asks – fuck it's Warren, I should have known he'd weasel into our family Christmas, I wonder how long he's been here for, staining the air like our family's special brand of pollution. "Something about fathers and sons and inequity?"

'The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son…yeah - I wonder what Paddy and Deccy will grow up to think.'

It hurts to hear my failures as a father called out so distinctly, especially to the man who has changed my life. There is so much I would have done if it wasn't for the role Warren shaped me into. When Trevor died sixteen years ago Warren needed a business partner. I was living with Foxy, working with Foxy, keeping all Foxy's secrets – I was the obvious choice regardless of any hopes or plans or dreams of my own. I was star struck, in awe and indebted. I was seventeen and I'd just lost the man I was fucking, my mind was a mess and you don't say no to men like Warren Fox. And he's done so many things to make sure I can never say no again.

"They'll be good men, they've had strong women looking after them, like Eileen and Lynsey," a shiver passes up my soul. "…and you."

"You think I'm enough for them?" My sister asks.

"You're enough for any man Cheryl," he answers, voice low and leering.

I feel my fingers clench into my sides, this perverted dance has been going on between them for years. It doesn't matter how many noble Nate's or gormless Gilly's Chez ends up with she will always go back to the first man who broke her heart. He has that much control.

"Daddy! Daddy!" I hear a little voice behind me and turn around to see my youngest running towards me with arms out stretched.

"Hey little man!" I say, lifting him into my arms.

The moment I do I forget all about my history of regrets and misdemeanours – it's funny how your world feels complete when you hold a part of you in your arms.

"Were you a good boy this year?"

"Yes, I did try and Santa said I have been. To say thank you he bought me a new pair of trainers with heels that light up, and a 'Where's Wally' collection, and a book with drum music, and fifteen games for the xbox."

"Fif-teen?!" I say, mock surprise – the only reason he got fifteen was because I didn't know which one he'd like most, because I barely know him, I've spent no time in my son's eight year old world.

"Hmmhmmm, though Declan says I'm not allowed to play them on his xbox," Paddy says giving his older brother an exaggerated pout.

"Hey put Mr Sulkinson away," I say, wobbling his bottom lip, "and we'll see if we can convince Dec to change his mind later yeah?"

"He won't," my youngest continues to sulk but he can't stop laughing as I tickle his chin.

I put Paddy down and step towards my eldest.

Dec's a little too old for hugs from his old man, but I might get lucky – it is Christmas after all.

"Hey, Dec."

"Dad," Dec nods in my general direction.

He barely looks at me, suspicious of the man he might see. I feel the presence of Chez' words again as I realise my ten year old son already knows me well enough not to place trust in me. But before I have time to say anything else, Cheryl's calling me.

"Brendan, finally!" She says as she walks with Warren towards the hall.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder, kiss her cheek, "merry Christmas sis!"

She remains immobile, her voice stained with disgust, "just in time for the service at St Pauls, missed a lovely morning service though."

***M&K***

Attending two services was Eileen's tradition. She used to say Chester was a big community and we needed to make a good impression with everyone. I think what she really meant was the more people witnessing prayers for my soul was a good thing. Before I met her there was nothing I feared more than looking inside myself, but she made me honest, solved my cryptic puzzles and fought for my soul. I'm not a good man, but she bought me light.

I hope she's proud that we keep her memory in these behavioural patterns. This year we sit in one of the front pews. Somehow Warren, who doesn't possess any sort of faith is still with us.

Memories of Steven: everything I've ever done for him and felt for him abound in this place of worship. It may not have been me that led him to terror this morning, but the fear was caused by me. If I'd looked after him, protected him, he wouldn't have experienced whatever hell he's been through and barely survived. He would be as perfect and as wild and as relaxed as that week he spent in my home. My worst fear is I may be too late to save him now. Paddy half reclines onto my lap as if to remind me it is not only Steven I've let down.

The people I care about get hurt, they get ground down until there's nothing left. Saint Michael should strike me down to hell fire this very day, keep them safe and rid them of the devil. They're better off without me. But I have to believe there is some good in me, I have to find the way of protecting the people I love – it is all I've ever wanted to do. For Eileen's sake I need to keep the light within me shining.

"Sit up, little man." I whisper to my youngest, as the choir sing.

"You looked sad, I wanted to give you a hug," Paddy whispers back.

"Thank you mate, I'm OK."

I have learned that God's love in us is steadfast and he does not repay us in accordance with our inequities but Steven does not deserve this torture, I know clearly that he is being sacrificed for my lesson. So this year I don't only pray for my and my family's soul, but for Steven's. I ask God for a sign that I should stay with him because he is a boy and I'm a Roman Catholic man who commits abominations. He's seventeen and I'm more powerful in every aspect. He's unprotected and I work for Warren Fox. He's scarred and I'm the only one who cocoons him. I'm weak and I think we may have found love - useless, immoral, decadent love.

I dissolve into my fears and illicit dreams and spend too long praying. I don't notice when the church empties - I'm in a private communion with my personal Jesus. It's Dec's hand on my shoulder that brings me back to reality.

"Come on Dad, everyone is hungry."

***M&K***

Christmas dinner is the usual, too much turkey, too much alcohol, too much of a drunk Cheryl and a leeching Warren. One of these days I may ban him from our Christmases – yeah I know, it would never be that easy.

Cheryl and Warren start to clear the table and I manage to convince Dec to let Paddy play on the Xbox. It's easily if painfully done with the promise that Dec can disappear to see his girlfriend for a few hours. Warren cheers him on, loans him some aftershave.

"She'll wanna smell all of you wearing that."

Cheryl giggles at a line she would whack any other man for.

I wait till Dec has left the room and warn Warren, "my son is ten years old!"

He shrugs like it's nothing and we have a silent communication of all the things we agreed to never tell Cheryl.

Dec leaves in skinny jeans and a t-shirt, hair ruffled - first date material. As he leaves I can picture so clearly a five year old Deccy in his first school uniform as me and Eileen take photos and pretend we're not crying with pride. My youngest is jumping up and down on the kinnect like a gymnast and I swear it was yesterday that I was teaching him to walk. They're growing up every time I blink and I'm missing their whole childhood. I can almost hear what Eileen would make of my timing this morning, she'd say 'you shouldn't be so hard on yourself,' whilst giving me a look that said she expected better – it was more grounding than anything, that look.

I smile at those memories of my dear wife, when out of nowhere I see the way Steven looked at me last night when I needed to go and seek revenge. There are very few people who can look at me as though they're communicating with my soul.

I grab a few bowls from the table and take them into the kitchen, walk straight into my sister standing far too close to that man. She jumps away from him like a schoolgirl been caught, he gives me the look of an older man gaining control.

"So have fun last night?" Warren asks me, "you ran off pretty sharpish."

As she hears Warren's words Cheryl inspects me, like she can see the tracks of my life.

"Yeah one of the lads was having some trouble at the club, you know how it is," I nod as though it's easy to work for Warren, like he's protective of us all. Whilst knowing exactly what he'd do if one of his lads was in trouble, knowing what happened to Cam, what almost happened to Steven.

He squeezes his lips together like he's formulating, and says, "wouldn't have thought anyone was working on Christmas eve."

"_We_ were," I tell him and he nods silently.

We have an unspoken agreement that we won't let Chez know any of our dealings outside of The Loft, the high class nightclub.

"Doesn't explain where you were this morning though Bren," my sister says, "the boys really missed you, you were the first thing Paddy asked for."

"First?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

"OK, second, first was…the stocking." We both say it at the same time and share our first genuine smile.

She stops for a moment and steps into my embrace. I feel Warren get restless behind us, but she cups my cheeks and I smile into the fond eyes of my sister. We're in the tender embrace of our family.

"I was worried about you, love."

"Sorry," I say, looking sheepish.

"You've taken it hard this year," she whispers, looking at me with sympathy for my grief. How can I tell her that I was really spending the night with a boy who might mean more than the woman I married?

Steven is the first person who's broken into my heart since I boarded it up and locked it away – it was destined to be a worn out wreck forever but he's taking up squatters rights in it, he has no idea how dangerous he's being.

Almost like we have some form of telepathy my phone starts ringing on the table, and Warren announces with twisted glee that it's 'that Steven'.

I step away from Cheryl flip my thumb over the ignore button on my phone and face another wave of the scorn of Cheryl.

"That that boy who turned up here?" She asks.

"Yeah."

"I thought he was a babysitter?" She speaks the title like she barely believes it herself.

After Eileen, let's just say I had a form of grief management which involved teenage babysitters. Cheryl warned me out of it, and employed the sister of our childhood friend as a nanny.

"He is…that's all he is." I say, and that's the first time it hurts to lie. "I was trying to arrange us a sit for New Years Eve, so we could go somewhere, if you like."

"Oh Bren that would be wonderful!" Chez sings, the sure way to get her to forget about misdemeanour – mention a possible party. "Oh you never guess who's going to be back in town? Lynsey's brother – Eoghan! You remember? We should find out where he's going."

Oh God.

***M&K***

I leave quite soon after, a hug for the members of my family and a nod to the man who's not. I say I have work to do and I might not be back till tomorrow, I get away with it, with Cheryl all a flutter about potential new year's plans and Paddy barely lifting his head from his kinnect. I speed all the way to the flat, I just need to see Steven. I don't even have the excuse that I think he's unsafe, or facing any imminent danger. I've just missed him.

He's in the kitchen as I walk through. Dressed more respectably in a shirt and a pair of ill-fitting jeans that are too big and slopped at the hips, we'll get him some new clothes soon.

"Hey," he's smiling at me, "making tea you want some?"

I'm over with him in a second, in his personal space because I need each sense to be focused on him, dissolve the deprivation of him. I can't stop smiling at him, looking at those lips and he laughs cutely at my presence.

"Hello," he whispers, and I can hear a faint trail of desire in his voice.

"Alright?"

He nods and leans even closer towards me. He bites his lip and tilts his head that way that makes me want to explore the contours of his throat.

"Had a good day?" He asks.

"Yeah, yeah it was good."

"Kids happy?"

"Yeah," I smile, he has such a big heart, "Chez had a little too much to drink, as did Foxy" it was a casual comment but the latter name feels like it has been tugged out of me, he's not been mentioned between us for months.

The name twists between us and I feel Steven's smile catch, not obviously, I think his scars may only be evident to someone like me.

"OK?" I ask him.

He just nods.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

He shakes his head quickly like he's clearing a blocking thought and says in a low voice almost like he's asking about a conspiracy, "eat a lot of turkey?"

He's changing the subject - I let him.

"Yeah and roast potatoes."

"Hmmm," he smiles and if it's if he cleanses the moment from the trace of my stupid words – such is the power of his smile.

"And stuffing."

His, "hmmm!" sounds almost decadent.

"And sprouts."

"Ick!" He says grinning from ear to ear and wrinkling that cute little nose of his. "Get any more ties?!"

He winks and there's nothing now but us, I laugh freely.

"Some socks."

"Hmmm, lovely, will have to see those later, innit?"

"And some boxers."

I can practically see his eyes change to desperate desire. I know we need to take things slowly, but fuck. I'm like a kid taken to a candy store and told only to look.

We just look at each other, his eyes trail over my skin and I feel it.

"You gonna kiss me then or what?" He asks, his voice all sorts of irresistible cockiness, and I'm not going to resist an order so simple.

"Merry Christmas, Steven," I whisper, before brushing my lips with his.

My kiss is controlled as soft and slow, parted lips and a hint of tongue. It's a greeting. His is harder, he sucks my tongue into his mouth, trails his fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. His is the first moan. It's a plea. I step into him, box him into the counter, push my body against his and make him pant. I grab hold of his collar, undo the first button.

He says, "no."

Jesus, I'm such a bastard. I can't believe I pushed him again.

"Sorry," I say, stepping back immediately, but his hands wrap my hips, he doesn't let me go far.

He's smiling.

"No, no it's not that innit? We have company, though."

"What?"

"Some bloke, that's what I tried to call you about, got stuck in the rain so I let him have a shower, I hope that's OK?"

"You let a stranger into my home?!" I ask, incredulously.

"No, he's not a stranger, well least he says he knows you, says he's a mate, I got him to describe this house and he got it dead on."

I can hear the panic in his voice, so I press my hand to his face, let him know it's OK. If my Steven is safe then everything's OK.

"What's his name, Steven?"

"Simon, I think, Simon Walker?"


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:**

Guys I'm so sorry I've been so slow! So much has happened in the last two weeks I think my head-spins just stopping!

(For those of you who are interested: firstly I was beginning to have some doubts about it – mainly I agree with those of you who think it's become too angsty and I didn't quite know how to change that, but both Kylikki and Marble Eyes were so lovely about it that I felt duty-bound to continue. Then the awesome and irreplaceable Kabr got (another) new job so has had to stop writing all together. Which kinda added to my doubts about it and honestly I almost quit too – I would have done if Marble Eyes hadn't been amazing and helped me take another look at the plan, get rid of some filler and been a generally awesome beta. Then I got a start date for my dream job, in a location I know nothing about, in three week's time. So I've had to find a house, prepare, pack etc. And this all happened in the space of a fortnight!)

However, I'm back now, I'm genuinely motivated to continue and thanks to the incredible Marble Eyes I have something slightly less angsty to continue with. Yet due to all that the updates might be a bit slower in coming but I'll try not to make it too slow!

And as always thank you to everyone for the support and importantly the honesty! I genuinely appreciate it when you let me know when things aren't working for you because chances are it's not working for me either I just haven't noticed it yet!

Also I appologise for the massively long A/N's there shouldn't be any life changing news left to share with you (*touch wood*) so I'll shut up for a bit ;)

This chapter is dedicated to the miraculous and exceptional Marble Eyes.

**Chapter Warnings:**

The angst continues for a little bit longer;

Reference to sex.

**Chapter Twenty – Ste Hay.**

"Yeah cos I'm the one that proper wanted it…you were proper turned on, looked like you hadn't had sex for weeks!" I laugh teasin' Bren.

He looks dead serious and whispers, "I haven't."

And I'm not laughin' no more. Me heart feels like it has just learned how to beat so it's makin up for years of not beatin by proper rushin'. And he's looking at me like the last person he fucked was me and that might be what he means by weeks, cos it's been two weeks since we seen each other innit?

It feels dead awkward so I try to say, "what not enough-"

But he stops me.

"Plenty of opportunity, plenty of men; I've not been interested."

And I can't stop feelin those words; like my heart cant stop wanting to drink em up because he's saying he's only wanted to have sex with me. Like he don't wanna sleep with no-one else.

"Don't?" It comes out dead quick, like my tongue just slips on my thoughts.

I didn't really mean to say it and I know I can't ask a man like him to not have sex especially when he can't have sex with me at the moment.

So I change it quick and say, "I mean I get it if you-" not that I would 'get' _it_ not that I could even think about it "…but-"

"I won't," he answers quick and it sounds like a promise, and when I kiss him it feels like a promise too.

***M***

I feel like my lips have been stretched - like they can't stop smiling, though it feels a little silly now smilin' as much as I am. We kissed so many times before he left, just kept kissin'; there was one stage I thought he was gonna get back into bed again. He looked like he could stay forever, but it's Christmas day so I had to send him to the boys didn't I? They need their Dad and he needs 'em. But he looked proper happy and promised he'd be back as soon as he could get away.

I lie back into bed and press my face into his pillow, just smellin' him makes me proper happy.

I'm not stupid or owt, I know things aren't perfect. Like I know that I've got the disease and that when we tried to y'know those memories came back and that might keep happenin for a while. And I know there are a load of issues with him. But it just feels like we'll sort things out, like he wants to sort things out. That he wants to be with me, properly with me.

I close me eyes and sort of get carried away in all these thoughts of Brady and me. Like all those dreams I've had before when we were livin' with him. But it feels OK now, like it don't feel like they're just dreams cos there's this difference in the way he's lookin' at me. And he said….he said he won't sleep with no-one else but me.

Smilin' and laughin' I kick me legs out in the air, I feel proper light. Maybe Santa's come to me this year and bought me the best thing I could have asked for. Maybe all _my_ Christmas dreams have come true.

One year, when the twins were four, back when Terry weren't there and things were OK. We got em big helium balloons for their birthday – me and Mam actually paid for em and everything. Leah got this pink My Little Pony one which she thought was proper sick. Lucas got a giant spider one, cos at the time he had a proper thing for spiders. He was scared of the balloon though. We told 'em to be dead careful, cos like full of helium they'd fly off. But Lucas took his outside and let it go, said the spider was dead pleased now that it was free – it got what it wanted and so was no longer scary and they could both be happy now. I kinda feel like that, like I'm free now I'm here so I could fly away with Brady and be happy.

It starts to rain proper loads, you can hear the rhythm on the windows and I kinda like it. I used to hate rain like this, if I woke up and it was raining like this it either meant two things – that I'd be outside and get ill cos my clothes would get proper wet, or I'd stay at hom- at Terry's and worse may happen. But I don't wanna leave here, I don't need to leave here; I could lie in this bed all day, warm and cosey and wait for Bren to come back. I can see the way he'd beam when he sees me lying in bed waiting for him. He'd proper love it.

The doorbell rings though, so I have to pull on some clothes.

The man at the door is proper drenched, he's wearin' a brown wax jacket and has this like really long hair which is soaked and drippin'. He looks like he might be in some boyband that Mam might listen to, if his features weren't all like twisted up. He's got this black eye proper bruised and a split lip - looks well sore that. I get this dead weird feelin about him. He's smiling like he knows who I am which is proper weird cos I've never seen him before.

He sticks out his hand for me to shake and says, "Hi, Ste Hay, right?"

"Who's askin'?"

"Aaw it's alright, don't look so scared. My names Simon, you can call me Walker; I'm a friend of Brendan's."

"Ah right, well he's not here; gone to see his family like, sorry," I say, closing the door as I go, but he sticks his foot in the way.

"It's pretty wet out here mate," he says, smiling.

He's got kinda nice eyes when he smiles. He sortta seems to light up with it and relax into somebody who might be a good mate.

I shrug though, not much I can do about the rain; not exactly like I talk to the weather man is it?

"What can I do about that?"

"Invite me in?"

"It's not me house is it? And I don't reckon Bren will be back for a bit."

It's weird but when I say his name this Simon bloke sort of twitches - like his eyes sort of narrow and his face tenses kinda like as if he'd just swallowed a lemon. He stops it dead quick though, back to smiling like he's dead sweet.

"Give him a call then? Check who I am?"

I don't really know why I do it. I know Bren'll be dead pissed that I'm calling him when he's at home, and when it cuts off after two rings I know he's angry with me. He gets all weird if I get too close to his family time.

"Rang off, didn't it? Sorry."

"Right well, the thing is mate I'd really like to come in, I could describe the house to you?"

***M***

There's something in the way this Walker talks, like he's kinda charming I guess. Yeah, charming. We have some coffee, talk for a bit bout all sorts – footie, music, nowt important but it's just a good time. It feels like I've known him years.

Then, in our third cup of coffee he says, "Brendan's told me quite a bit about you, you know."

And he's looking at me intently like it means Bren thinks I'm important, worth talking about in a good way. That Bren aint been talkin' bout what he can get out of me, but just talking cos he thinks I'm interesting and important. I blush a little and stare at me trainers.

"Hey, no need to look so shy. You've known each other for a while."

"Yeah, like seven months."

"Long time. He feels a lot for you."

I can't stop smiling like I did earlier, big goofy grin. It don't really matter how shit the world is - as long as Bren likes me nothing can be wrong. I'm like that spider balloon again.

"Is that right?" Walker asks.

"Yeah, yeah I think so."

"Funny then, that he didn't answer his phone earlier, or that he left you here alone on Christmas day."

"Well I mean it's Christmas innit? He needs to be with his family." I can't explain it cos that's the way it is, but my heart sort of sinks a little.

"Oh sorry mate I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

***M***

Walker says he's dead cold from the rain and asks for a shower. I don't see anything wrong with that so I say yeah. I say I'll make him some more coffee and he gives me this smile that says I'm like one of the best people he's ever met. He's dead sweet is Walker.

When I'm making the coffee Brady comes home, comes straight up to me, like almost runs to me, like he's missed me and I can't stop from smiling a lot. He comes proper in close and nowt exists anymore but me and him. We've got this own little world we live in, me and him and I'm floating away into it.

"Alright?" He asks and God his voice is so turned on, his eyes keep trailing over my lips and I swear I can feel it. His eyes are proper dark blue.

We have a chat about his day, I try to tease him but he wins this time - tells me he got some new boxers giving me this dead clear image of him in nothing but his boxers. I can see the strength of his pale skin as his muscles flex when he stands for me, the thickness of that dark hair, the proper manliness of him. And my hearts proper rushin', helpin' me whole body to respond. He's so fucking fit.

He keeps staring and staring at my lips and God I so want him to kiss me. I can feel my cock jump for him. And I know he's getting proper turned on too.

"You gonna kiss me then or what?" I ask him.

And he smiles like that's the best thing he's heard all day, comes dead close to me and whispers dead low, "Merry Christmas, Steven."

He pulls me in with his fingers in me shirt, pressing slightly at me bottom lip like he likes how soft is. His kiss is proper wide, opens me mouth dead easy and gets dead hungry dead quick. He makes me moan proper easy, I feel my hips arching up into him and I can't slow my body down it's like he's fuel or sommit. I will always be on when he's around.

His hands reach for my shirt, start to undo it, but I hear the shower click off and we can't can we? Not when Walker's here. The bloke's been waiting all day to chat business with Brady. The news must be dead important cos it's Christmas day. And anyway Brady and I will be alone pretty quick; I know it - especially after this kiss.

His fingers press against me skin as he moves to the second shirt button.

"No," I say, more to myself than to him.

He steps back immediately and I see this darkness in his eyes that's like pain. I can see what he thinks I mean - that he thinks it's about the other bloke again. And I smile cos for once I could get myself there drug-free and not think about the other bloke at all. Brady's like my medicine.

So I tell him quick, "No, no it's not that innit?" he looks confused so I add, "we have company, though."

"What?"

He looks kinda angry and my words sort of fall over themselves, "Some bloke, that's what I tried to call you about. Got stuck in the rain so I let him have a shower, I hope that's OK?"

"You let a stranger into my home?!"

"No, he's not a stranger. Well least he says he knows you, says he's a mate. I got him to describe this house and he got it dead on."

He presses his hand to my face, letting me know he forgives me or sommit and asks, "What's his name, Steven?"

"Simon I think, Simon Walker?"

His face sort of falls to shadow, like goes completely pale and darkened and I feel like I can't really see him. He's dead angry or sommit.

"Brady I'm sorry, he seemed like a good sort."

"It's OK," he whispers, in that way that I'm not sure if he's talking to me or himself. "You're OK right?" He asks me like I might not be, lookin deep in me eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answer him quick; this bloke can't be that bad surely? He seems really sweet and charming. "Sorry, though, I thought he was a mate like."

"It's OK Ste, I am a mate," Walker says behind us. He's suddenly there in the same room, dead quick.

I'm normally good at hearing people moving about the house, kinda had to be like – at Terry's. But I guess Brady proper confused me with that amazing kiss. I jump a little away from Brady, but he wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into him like I might damage.

"Hi Brendan," Walker smiles stepping towards us.

Simon's wearin' nowt but a towel now and he has a kinda nice body; like slim, a little like mine if he wasn't so tall. He looks like he'd probably be stronger than me too, like he looks like he's got more strength in his muscles. Out of nowhere I wonder if Brady would like me better a bit stronger. I lost a bit of weight when all that shit happened and I couldn't move. But I could try to bulk up again now. Now I've got time and everything's safe and stuff. Maybe I'll ask him later. Anyway I shake those thoughts away and listen to what Brendan and Walker are chattin' about.

Brendan's telling him to put some clothes on, sounds dead stressed about it. Walker's saying they were really wet so they're drying out. Sounds perfectly fine to me but I feel Brady sort of tense by my side like he thinks Walker is lyin' or something.

***M***

Walker has this way of making conversation feel dead easy. I feel like it don't really matter what I say about anything cos he'll just think it's fun or cool. Like he proper don't think I'm stupid. We talk about Christmas dinner, and then the weather, and a little about the club. I even feel Bren relax. He still stands there with his arm over me shoulders and I start to feel a little like he's showing me off, but in like a good way. Not in a way that he might get something from it or I make him look good, like Blake did, but more like he wants me to feel special.

It's weird - it's like I'm meeting my boyfriend's mate. I know I can't think like that. But as we talk I get that feeling like I'm that helium balloon floating away again.

After a while I get the impression they really need to talk about something alone, like some business deal or something. So I say I'll make myself scarce.

"You don't have to Steven," Brady says, his grip on my shoulder tightening a little.

"That would be great thank you, Ste," Walker says quickly.

"No worries."

Bren leans forward for a kiss on my cheek and looks in my eyes that way like he's investigating to make sure I'm OK. He's proper weird this afternoon. I mean everythin's proper fine innit?

So I say, "It's cool. Jeremy Kyle's on in a bit anyway, Christmas special," to let him know it's OK.

***M***

Bren proper hates Kyle, he tried to watch it a little for me but he thinks it's all fake and ridiculous. I used to watch it a bit in his house, and he used to try to distract me: kissin me neck, sittin dead close, rubbin me leg – distractin' me and telling me to convince him I don't like it when you know he knew I proper did. I kinda wish he'd come up and do that now. That kiss earlier was dead hot. And I know he won't push nothing. I know he's not gonna have sex with me till he's certain my minds off the other bloke, but just kissin Bren could be dead hot. Especially if we just kissed for ages in bed, like proper got each other going. He has such an amazing body. So much strength as he wraps me to him I feel like I'm a present just for him. Then like when it's just soft and slow I like pressing me fingers through that chest hair, it's so much softer than you'd think it would be. And I know all the parts of his body that's proper sensitive, I know how to make his eyes black as midnight. I like the way he tastes and all, and I think I could suck him tonight if he wanted, if he just lay there and let me do it.

I think about texting him, sending something like a little suggestive or something but I don't want to look demanding. So I decide to go and make meself some coffee, work out what's going on and maybe give him a wink or sommit.

That was my mistake. If I'd texted him then I wouldn't have to see what I did.

***M***

"Steven," Brady's eyes are proper panicked, as soon as he notices me.

I feel blood rush to my cheeks, tears sting my eyes - I'm such a proper twat. I just thought…I thought we were OK…that we had this world; proper life me and him…that I was safe in it - how can that disappear in ten minutes?

Walker's lookin' at me like proper annoyed, and they've still not really stopped standing that close. I guess Brady didn't mean all that shit he said about waiting for me.

"I'm sorry right?" I say, "I didn't mean to-"

I back out the room – I know when I'm not wanted.

"Steven it's not what it looks like, I swear to you."

"I don't even get what it looks like!"

I still can't really make sense of it. I feel like my brain won't work properly, like it's been full of cotton wool or I'm on a drug high or maybe just what Mam always said is true – maybe I am just proper stupid.

They were stood where I left em only closer to each other, a lot closer. Brady's eyes were flashing black and it looked like….like he didn't not like it.

"I'm not sleeping with him," Brady says, his words spelling out what I didn't want to admit.

It looked like they were getting each other off, turning each other on.

"Well apparently he's not sleeping with me without you anyway," Walker says his voice is changed, a lot gruffer and you can proper see his erection. That wasn't there before - I'm certain of it; Brady's been making him hard.

I can't move a single muscle as he walks up to me, slowly.

"Yeah thinking about it Brendan, I'm down with that," His finger trails up my arm and I struggle to think past me stupidity… they were… they were talking about a threesome? A threesome.

"I'd like a go with _this,_" Walker whispers, like I'm 'this'.

Then Brady has him by the throat, turns him around and pushes him hard against the wall, all physical dominant strength.

"Get your hands off Steven."

Walker smiles like he's getting off, "started like this, do you remember? You on top of me on my bed. God I can feel your heart rushing Brendan," He's talking and all the time Brady's telling him to shut up, but it's like he don't really want him to and I remember something earlier:

"I'm an eejit for taking you," he said to me.

"I'm giving myself to you Bren. Bren, I'm all yours. When you saw me in the shower what did you do?"

"Shut up, just-"

"Did you get off too? You do know you're the only person I ever think about?"

I knew he didn't want me to shut up then neither, he likes to be pushed in sex and that's what Walker's doing now. Walker knows what Brady's like in sex.

"Still turned on aren't you?" I can hear Walker whisper to Brady "would you like me to turn around?"

I feel like I'm just watching this, like I've lost me voice and I can't do nothing to stop this from happening. If they decide they want me too then I….

The only thing I can do to stop it is to walk away.

But as soon as I try Brady pulls me back, hand on my wrist.

He won't let me escape, "you want me t'…"

"What? No!" His hands press against my face that way that used to seem sweet, but all I can feel is Walker. "Steven, please, you have to believe me. I'm not sleeping with him," he's doing little but pleading now.

Walker speaks slowly, "I'm going to get a little offended if you keep saying that Brendan. It was good last night."

Last night? Last night?! And I remember waking up this morning, Brady even tasted different when I kissed him. God I am proper stupid, the most stupidest person on earth.

"So when you left me in bed, when you had to go and sort out some business…"

"I'm not slee-" Brady starts to say it again but I'm so sick of all his lies.

"Please Brady just tell me the truth."

Bren hangs his head, grits his teeth and closes his eyes. His voice is stone cold when it comes again. "Walker is the business I had to sort out, yes."

"Why?" Walker asks like he's gloating.

"Simon, stay out of this!"

"Why, Brady?"

"When you left my house two weeks ago I asked him to keep an eye on you, I just needed to keep you safe." He says that so much but it don't actually mean nothing does it? He knew – he knew I weren't safe, but he couldn't be bothered to get involved. All he could do was get his colleague to 'keep an eye on me'. He's just hollowed out, money where his heart should be.

"So you knew, you knew all along that I'd gone home. When I was telling you 'bout it last night, you already knew it?"

"No."

"The truth."

"I knew you'd gone home, I knew you'd got there safely. I didn't know what would happen when you were there, I couldn't have known what would happen to you Steven."

"Bullshit! I proper told you!" I say, remembering when he saved me from the shelter and we sat together and talked. I told him everything - everything I had to get the twins away from, everything that had happened to me. Everything. And if Brady knew I'd gone there, and he knows about the Loft, then…. "Blake?"

"I had no idea about him I promise you. I wouldn't have let that happen to you Steven, you have to believe me. He stopped doing his job, Walker, stopped looking after you and so I had to go last night and make him pay for what had happened to you."

"By fucking him?" Who makes people pay through sex? I know the answer to that so badly it turns my stomach, even when it was all happening, I didn't think Brady was like that. I can see him for what he is now – see through all those fake smiles and faulty kisses. He's nothing but plain evil.

"I-"

"Did you fuck him?"

"I-"

"Tell me the truth, please," my voice is barely here now, I'm barely here. This isn't the Brady I know.

"I… I can't," he means yes. He means he lied to me earlier, he means all he's done is lie to me. He means he's no better than them, no better than that other bloke.

"Have a nice life Brendan."

As I walk to the door, I remember that helium balloon – the one Lucas sent to go to be free. The one I've been feeling like all day. We found it the next day, it caught itself on an electricity wire and was popped, Lucas cried for weeks. There was nothing we could do; it was nothing but dead plastic.

"Steven."

"It's OK, you don't ever have to see me ever again."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:**

Eight weeks?! I know, what's all that about?! Does anyone still even remember this fic?! I am so sorry I'm such a pain in the arse, although this chapter has had so many face lifts it's insane. I was hoping to install the hope back in and I might have ended up with something sickeningly romantic in an angsty way instead, but that's for you to decide.

Please let me hear some words even if it's just death threats for making you wait too long! Reviews really are motivation so if you want me to continue, (faster this update!) Let me know :)

Also you can play spot the canon quote if you like – there are eight in this chapter!

This chapter is dedicated to the miraculous and exceptional Marble Eyes who not only has been my marvellously talented beta but also my eternal supporter, I gain so much motivation from her.

**Chapter Warnings:**

Reference to sex, angst and violence – it's UP after all!

**Chapter Twenty One – Brendan Brady.**

One man's weakness is another man's power; I should know - it's the code I live by. You can't let people see that you care about anything, or anyone. Cos then they got ya - they'll use it to hurt you in a way you thought you could never be hurt. You put the weapon in their hand and you only got yourself to blame.

I met Simon Walker when I was eighteen. I was upping the ranks in the Loft and he was the one who should have got there first. He was smart, charismatic and calculating - dangerous in a way that I could never hope to be. We formed an uneasy alliance, a cold war agreement of peace and amity. I could step on him and obliterate his form from this universe. He could sneak in under the cover of darkness and close any heart that was open to me. So instead we formed something like friendship.

Last night I couldn't contain my impulses. I was furious at Terry, Blake, the lack of protection my boy had faced and I took it out on Walker. The evidence is his puce eyelid and scarlet lip. I'm still unaware what happened. Black holes of memory aren't new to me – the monster inside me is made from amnesia; it's been there my whole life and reminds me that I have so much to be ashamed of. I could never let anyone know my real past, especially men like Simon Walker.

I never wanted Walker to know about Steven, he wasn't my first choice of guardian. It was always supposed to be Joel - a young apprentice in the Loft keen to show his colours. But Walker twisted Joel against me and took the role himself. I was forced to confess, expose my hand to a cheat and Walker got me right where he wanted me. Smart, charismatic and calculating – modus operandi Simon Walker.

Tonight, Walker is finely tuned; on high alert; every sense refined. He's come here for battle; I just need to work out what his weapon of choice is. Like I'm a novice to wars of words, my talk reveals nothing. So, as we stand in the kitchen, I wrap Steven close to me - taking care of the boy who's always by my side. I won't involve him in any of our sordid games. He's mine to protect.

"I'll leave you to two it."

"You don't have to go, Steven."

"It's cool - Jeremy Kyle's on anyway - Christmas special," when Steven says it I see Simon smirk behind me. In his eyes are his words from last night: scally; council rat and they chill through me, numb me, awaken the monster.

I'm in Walker's space as soon as my boy is safely out of the room, threat in every inch of my posture.

"Put some fucking clothes on!" I demand as soon as I know Steven is out of ear shot.

"Come on," Simon whispers, a smile playing across his face. "Don't tell me you don't like this," he says waving a hand down his torso, towel slipping lower. "Not with what you were screaming last night, you have such a filthy mouth on you when you get in the moment."

"Making things up now Simon? Sad really, that you're that desperate for some action."

"Come on Brendan don't tell me you don't remember. You wanna see some evidence?" he asks, biting the middle of his bottom lip, splitting the cut open. He turns around, lowers the towel and there are bright red fingernail crescents in his arse. I swallow. I tell myself the marks are not proof of my infidelity.

"Why would I want that, when I have him upstairs?"

"What? That kid?!" Walker laughs, a tone that sickens me. "The one who's watching _Jeremy Kyle_?! I don't know Brendan, enlighten me."

"You know a few years ago we lived over the road from a Tesco, but still every Friday Eileen would go to the butchers in town and buy us nice fresh joints of prime beef. I can understand now why she'd go to that much effort when there was cheap suspicious meat so easily available."

For a second his face blanches and scowls so tightly you can see every tendon through his pale crunched up paper-thin skin. Then as though the anger was just a trick of the mind, it's replaced with that Oscar-worthy smile.

"So I was thinking," he whispers, his voice sickly silky, "either you give me more, or I might be tempted to tell Warren what you get up to with seventeen year old boys."

My heart pumps full of loathing. The monster within me prowls. If Warren were to find out about Steven he wouldn't stop for a heartbeat before seeking vengeance. My feelings for Steven have already led me to betray my business partner and they could lead to so much worse. Warren and I dance a path of lies, lies that innocent eyes like Steven's need to be blinded too.

Walker tilts his head, stretching his neck and whispers, "granted Ste is very pretty, does he take it well? Does he bite his lip and flutter those pretty little eyelashes at you? Let you wipe your cock over that pretty little mouth?"

"Shut up do you hear me? Shut the fuck up!" My fingers are tensed by my side; the monster shakes the bars of his cage.

"You like me talking about him, don't you? I can tell," Walker whispers taking a step closer to me. "We could involve him if you like? Tie him up, let me fuck him - you can watch, you'd like that wouldn't you? He's something to watch alright; I bet he begs beautifully doesn't he?"

I prepare to push him away, slam his head hard into the counter. But as I breathe in the delight of black punishment the light behind us fleets.

"Steven."

Shit!

"I'm sorry right? I didn't mean to-" he says, taking a step backwards.

"Steven it's not what it looks like, I swear to you."

"I don't even get what it looks like," he says - beautiful eyes wide and pained.

"I'm not sleeping with him!"

After the shock Steven looks like he could believe me; like he trusts me, but Walker doesn't miss a beat.

"Well apparently he's not sleeping with me without you anyway," as Simon talks Steven doesn't move a single muscle, he looks like he couldn't if he tried. "Yeah thinking about it Brendan, I'm down with that," his finger trails up Steven's arm. "I'd like a go with _this._"

I snap - slam Walker up against the wall. My fingers are at his throat, stopping his breath and making his eyes pop.

Walker's horrific words choke clandestine into the space I give him, "Started like this," he purrs, "do you remember? You on top of me on my bed. God I can feel your heart rushing Brendan, still turned on aren't you? Would you like me to turn around?"

My monster is barely contained. I want to break Simon. I would destroy him right now if it wasn't for Steven. Steven is my peace, my serenity and his presence pulls me back. I'm torn between a place of heaven and a place of hell. All I can do is run to the boy I care for, grab his arm and pull him to me.

As I pull him back though he misunderstands my intent.

"You want me t'…" he starts to say.

"What? No! Steven please you have to believe me, I'm not sleeping with him."

"I'm going to get a little offended if you keep saying that Brendan." I hear Walker say behind me. "It was good last night."

Steven's gaze catches on the words, you can almost hear the rumble of his racing thoughts, "so when you left me in bed, when you had to go and sort out some business…"

Steven begs for the truth so I tell him. He hears it all wrong, or I tell it all wrong. He looks at me like I'm the worst sort of human. For the first time he looks at me like he can see the monster everyone else knows. A voice inside me says '_finally'_. Maybe now he'll understand why he needs to keep away from me.

"Did you fuck him?" Steven cries, "tell me the truth please."

Twisted with no possible answer, I give him the only truth I can, "I can't."

The moment Steven slams the door I run into Walker and push him hard against the wall.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He just smiles, laughs and tilts his head to one side.

When his words finally come his voice is different – he sounds smaller, more fragile, you know even breakable. The monster crouches in the darkness. Tricksters by trade, Walker and I dance a predatorial game.

"You! You're what's wrong with me Brendan," he whispers, "how the fuck can you want him?! You can meet any broken kid in any gang around here, Warren has an endless supply of them; what makes you want Ste Hay?" His words rush and give me no time for breath, "I used to think it's cos he's fuckable: an easy lay that's not bad to look at – but it's more than that isn't it? You love him." My heart makes a confirmatory beat, my fingers grip harder into Walker's skin. "But that's OK, it is. I can put up with that, I mean you must know it can't go anywhere, you and him…"

He eats at my guilt and worthlessness. He wields the knowledge that protecting Steven means keeping him far away from my world as though it's his new toy.

"But you and me, Brendan," Walker whispers. "We work, we're a perfect combination."

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"Us, Brendan. You and me. I know I wasn't ready for this before, but last night… fuck last night..." his words drawl off and a smile snakes itself over his thin dried splitting lips.

"You really don't remember do you?" he asks when he remembers to look disheartened, "would you like an action replay?!"

"I'm with Steven," I say.

The words are an impulse; you know it's like they didn't even register in my brain before I say them out loud but out loud they sound…right – honest and true. And I realise that whilst I've been fighting to keep Steven safe we've been growing into something so real. You know I think he stole the still beating fragment of my heart right from the first time I met him, when I took him to bed and taught him the beauty of his body. I was set as his protector from the very beginning: four months ago, when I knew he was facing Warren's drug-laced punishment. It has always been me who has had to keep him safe. Could it be that our paths are now so entwined that I can't live without him under my protection?

Walker starts to breathe more easily - with my thoughts full of Steven my grip has loosened.

"Brendan, think about it, you could never be with him could you? Not in the way you could be with me. Think about how much you'd risk with him, your kids, your sister…your alliance with Warren."

Walker's words only serve to make me certain of my feelings for Steven. I realise how much I would have risked to have kept Steven in our world this morning. All I needed was that look in his eyes as they began to recognise shelter, the slow flicker of his smile as we healed the cracks of his heart.

This morning I gave him the safety he was so in need of. Tonight my monster has changed that safety into something sordid; Steven's rightful safeguard has weakened at the claws of revenge. But you know I'll stop at nothing before I bring my boy back to me. The monster within me is clear to him now, but I can still protect him. For his protection I would lose my world.

"Get out," I shout at Walker - the man who I should have kept far away from our story.

I grip Walker by the shoulders, slam him up into the wall one last time, "get out!"

***M***

My heart is pounding and I'm only functioning on instinct. My every sense pulled tight in their search for Steven. My thoughts storm as I visit every place he has mentioned in darkness and in light. The first place I go is the shelter where I found him and the twins. Coldness and lifelessness say that he hasn't been here in months, even places of hell shine when he's present. But he's nowhere else either.

I race to town and my tyres screech into a gutter of fag ends and glitter. I follow two teenage boys to the destination of an over blasted stereo and when they try to shut the door I yank it off its hinges. Steven showed me this flat the day of our date, it's what caused that sparkle in his eye and set off the chain of events that led us to forgo coffee for illicit alleyway sex. He told me then that these are his best friends, but when I ask for him they say they haven't heard from him in months.

I drive to a place we found together, a few miles outside the city. Here, the Dee meanders peacefully across patches of downy green that are unbelievably soft at the touch of a bare writhing back. The hills in the background are now peaked with snow. That afternoon I didn't notice how the beauty of this hill was discordant with the filth of Manchester. But that must be why he looked so perfect here, my diamond in the rough. It's with that thought that I drive to the underbelly of this city: The estate that dared to call Steven its resident. I wait for blood curdling minutes until a stumbling Mrs Piggy and her fat old balding husband sing of Steven's absence as though its gleeful.

My lungs swell to aching point as I slam the car into fifth gear. I left him alone, insecure and of course I know where he would go. But I've been telling myself I'm wrong, that he wouldn't end up back here in front of a queue of desperation. There would be no where worse I could find him than Blake's. I pray Steven can still feel how amazing he is to me; I can only hope that that would be enough to stop him from misusing his perfection.

The moment I pull up I hear Blake smiling and laughing. Clearly Blake didn't get the message last night; I need to warn him that if he ever goes near my boy again he won't live to reap the rewards. Blake walks along a side path next door to his "business" and into the garden. I follow silently. I pick the lock and sidle into the house. I find him in the bath, singing as he sweeps his rubber duck through the water – what the fuck does he think he is? Taking away these boys' innocence as he tries to manifest some sordid part of his own. The man I am is sickened to the core and I become only the monster. Everything is black.

Later, I remember the delivery of my warning in fragments: Blake's mouth gasping, eyes popping and shrieks of surprise. I remember pale, clammy, lifeless skin and I don't know if it's reality or fantasy.

Sometime later I shake towards the front of the house, through a queue of men on a mission to kill their Christmas induced loneliness with teenage boys. When I'm there, I barely manage to breathe Steven's name but the boy on the door recognises me; gives me a genuine warm smile and tells me Ste Hay no longer works there.

Back in the car I punch the steering wheel and bang my head flat into the rest. I asked for a sign didn't I? Today in Christmas Mass with my family I asked for a sign that I should stay with Steven and God has answered; Steven is as lost as any hope of my salvation. In the dark, a doubt clogs my thoughts, silencing any other truth - I don't know him. Steven Hay, the boy who stole my life, was barely more than a figment of my imagination. I only ever saw in him what I wanted to see; my desire to protect him emerged merely from the big gaping scars of my own stale torture. I never took the time to learn him. I acted from pure selfishness and I have only ended up failing him. My thoughts echo and play with Walker's words,

"You could never be with him could you?"

"Think about how much you'd risk with him, your kids, your sister."

I am no worse than those men who have lived out there fantasies in him. I have kept him at arm's length and taken my pleasure from his body. I flip down the mirror and I stare at my reflection until I can no longer breathe, the light of the full moon shows my monster clearly.

Lost to my own self-disgust I drive to the car park we went to last night, the place where I can let my monster roam. My tyres screech as I tear up the tarmac, accelerating until I reach the roof.

And then I breathe, air fills my lungs leaving my chest heaving. Then my heart beats, my blood pumps and I know I am human. I see him.

***M***

"You are one hell of a man to track down Steven Hay."

As he looks at me it's with blue eyes the shade of a frozen river, unshed tears stay as though they're frozen in his fucking soul.

Irony twitches on his lips as he responds, "Wouldn't have thought you wanted to anyway…why don't you just go Brady? Go back to Walker; you don't wanna be with me no more."

My lips stretch to scream the truth, but my self-disgust blocks the noise. I know it's me who has bought him to the danger he feels now.

His snarled lips attempt a laugh so bitter it's like it couldn't even come from him. He moves off the wall. "OK well I'll make it easy on you, I'll go."

"Steven," I say my fingers flexing around his wrist impulsively, but he only looks at me to say I disgust him too.

"Get your hands off me!" He demands, "Do you not realise what you've just done to me?"

"You can't do this to me Steven, please… hear me out."

He stares at me as though he'd never want to hear any other word from my mouth and I sigh in frustration, pushing my hand through my hair.

"I need to tell you some things, some things about me. I need you to listen to me. If you do and you still wanna go then I won't stop you, I won't follow you; but you need to know."

Big blue eyes, more innocent than I deserve, stare point blank at me.

"Please Steven?"

Silence seems to stretch as distrust writhes between us, almost like it's forming a perceptible blockade. But he's staying. Finally he shakes his head before sitting away from me. His body is contracted and small, curved against the bench; my monster struggles not to oppress him.

"Look I'm bad news;" I tell him, introducing myself properly after all this time. "I know that and you know that. I've done a lot of terrible things and I used to hurt a lot of people, damage people – for a word of out place or for no other reason than they looked at me funny. People were little more than cockroaches and it was so much easier to just step on em. Sometimes…Sometimes I used to go so far I couldn't control my actions, mist would… gather."

"I know all about the red mist Brady, you don't grow up with a step father like mine and not know that."

"OK. You know about my Dad, he used to say all these things – puff, queer… He gave me this nickname; all his mates used to say it, Brenda. I couldn't …I couldn't deal, the weakest part of a man is his heart and mine was full of hatred so I used to _hurt_ people." I say and he looks at me like he can see within me now, like I don't need to say any more than that and he can see the brutality of my monster.

"What made you stop?"

"My wife."

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I'm not sure how he's decoded my relationship with my ex wife, my sons' mother; but that wasn't the answer he was expecting. And I have to let him know – I need to convince him that someone saw light in me once.

"I'm gay; the most significant sexual relationships of my life, the most honest ones have been with men. But Eileen was…she was my guardian angel. People can't know I'm gay," I tell him one of the fundamental facts of my existence and he shakes his seventeen year old head at me.

"I'm a roman catholic, single father who earns money through drugs. No-one needs to know I'm gay; other than those I shag, those-" As I look at him there are words I need to speak, in this place that knows all my secrets and in my darkness with just the light of his honesty, I need to say this. "Other than those I want to make love to." I feel the moment his eyes land on my skin, the power of those words are now a part of him. I can't describe the influence of his gaze in that moment, but it's like it opens more trapdoors of my history and I tell him more; I tell him it all. I want to let him inside.

"When I met Eileen I was twenty three, it was set up through Warren and we got on well. She seemed to…I don't know; understand me, I guess. I stopped sleeping with men. We got pregnant on our third date."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the maths already completed.

"We lost her, our first born, Niamh. You don't want to know what that feels like. There was so much pain, so much darkness. I started sleeping with men again. Eileen worked out quickly that I was fucking her nephew. I thought she was going to kick me out; expose me; humiliate me. Instead she told me she was pregnant - Declan; we… talked. We talked a lot that night. I told her things that I had never told anyone else before and in the end we just stopped. We came to an agreement - a different sort of marriage: I slept with men and she knew everything about me. And it worked because it had to – in the circles we moved in you're told that you are not a man unless you have a wife, a family…"

"Paddy? I mean did you-"

"Paddy was IVF; we both wanted a big family, we wanted three children at least and we were going to do it with whatever means necessary. Declan was a beautiful baby, a high achiever, so we knew we could. We were getting ready to leave; we were gonna leave England, go and live in Belfast near her parents, but she – but then she wasn't there anymore." I feel my scars reopen as he looks on; he rests his hand on my shoulder, comforting.

But his question is, "why you telling me this Brady? What's the point?"

"There was a time I wasn't like this, as violent as this. But the moment Warre-…the moment Eileen died I lost all that. No matter how far we'd gone into my retribution, I went straight back to the person I always used to be. I was losing all these people and all the time there was a voice in my head. It begged the question who does the universe really want me to be – a God fearing man, or who I really am?"

"And what was the answer?"

"I missed the old me. I went back to the Loft, back to violence and... back to the mist. I slept with a lot of boys, men; I didn't remember names or faces. Not because I was drunk, or high, but because that's what happens. It's as if there's this other part of me that just fights or fucks, that's all it wants to do, as many people as possible. It doesn't stop to feel emotion, or remember anything."

My monster has no memories, no capacity for feeling. I've committed so many sins that I couldn't face being the person I am without amnesia. All the men I've fucked before have been forgotten by the front door. I've never remembered anything like the shape of a throat, the tone of a moan, the feel of grass against a naked back. I've forgotten all those things, until now. I don't love men, I fuck them, I use them for release. Until now.

Steven shakes his head rapidly, "that's not what you're like Brady," he tells me. "I mean this morning, you could have proper fucked me and there would have been nothing I could have done about it right? You didn't though. You knew something weren't right, you stopped. And in the shower last night – I was proper begging you for it but you didn't do anything. Right you're not like that."

Steven has not once seen this monster because he is not like those other men. As soon as I see him everything I used to do before, all those games, seem pointless. I'm done with it all, I'm exhausted, and all I want is his comfort.

"So all this is just another lie innit? All this 'bout forgetting and not thinking it's just proper bull – I know what you're like with me."

I sigh deep, my eyes closing. Steven will never again believe in the promise I made him this morning, but I meant faithfulness with my very being. I am not in control of the part that destroyed it.

"It's not that part of me that's with you; I feel emotion with you, God Steven that doesn't even cover it."

He rolls his eyes; a deep bitter laugh is dragged from his lips at what he perceives as another dishonesty. But I couldn't cope if he remains hating me.

"I can't tell you when you became different to all those other men, the faceless men. You just have to believe me that you are. And the person who went into Walker's last night; that was the other half of me."

"So you're saying you don't remember what happened?"

"I wish I did."

He stares at me, and as I look in his eyes it's as if he finds some form of remedy. His blue world finds its sparkle on this cold night.

"So you might not have-" he starts to whisper as though it's the first thing he can make sense of, but I can't force him to believe that Walker is a liar. Not when I know what I could have done.

"You saw him," I remind him, "you know it's the only thing that makes sense, but I wouldn't have…"

"Exactly, you wouldn't have…. you proper wouldn't have. You told me this morning you wouldn't have and I could proper see you meant it Brady."

"Steven."

"He could be lying," he says and he's animated now, it's like his eyes start to glow. It's as if those words are pumping him alive.

"Steven."

"Over the last two weeks, has there been anyone else? Anyone else you might have fucked?"

I trail through my memory, shake my head and he stares at me like I've just given him a declaration of love. I haven't. I can't.

"Steven, this is all I can give you, can't you see? This isn't enough."

He nods slowly, swallows deeply, speaks as though he's certain, "it's enough for me."

He takes my hand in his like he's presenting me with a gift, I snatch myself back.

"It will never be enough for you."

He sighs deep. When he next speaks it's with pain.

"I was gon-… I was gonna text you," he says and he hands me his phone, a message half typed to me:

If that's what you want, I'm up for it. Ca-

"You know what I meant? Wouldn't have been owt I haven't done before, so you know if that's what you were down with then I would have let Walker…"

"Don't say it, please don't say it."

"So it is enough for me, what you have is enough for me."

My history reverberates around us as we sit in uncomfortable silence. I have never told anybody that much before, I have never had anyone accept me so whole heartedly and I have never been more undeserving.

The snow settles around us as we sit, his body starts to tremble but I don't trust myself to pull him close and keep him warm. I don't trust myself at all. How can I when I can only give him fragments of a story? It's our pasts that make us human, that bind our identity, and mine will always be broken.

"I…I went back to Blake's," I don't even realise it's me who's speaking, he has unlimited access to my thoughts; "I thought maybe...I mean I was sure you were there and…" there's a confession balanced on my tongue, I am about to admit to another atrocity until Steven gives me words of pure gold.

"I wouldn't go back there Brady, I'm better than that."

I feel my heart beat easy, that is all I've ever wanted him to know.

"You are," I promise him.

I let my gaze trail over his face, drink in the pure essence of him, feel myself prepare to say goodbye. I won't leave him alone again but I can't let him further into my heart, there's too much danger there for either of us, especially somebody as pure and innocent as him.

As I look, his eyes shift to me, and away quickly a couple of times. I watch in delight as a small natural laugh peaks his lips. He performs an uncertain act finally fitting for a boy of his years.

"What?" I laugh with him.

"Nothing, just when you look at me like that I feel…" He sighs, shakes his head, and lowers his gaze, looks like he hates himself and kicks the edge of the wall; "don't worry sounds proper crap."

"What?" I whisper, needing the end of that sentence to complete our story.

He puts up a protest through his fleeting gaze, blushing skin, but my eyes stay steady and true.

"Just no one looks at me like you do," his smile forms through his words.

"How do I look at you?" I whisper.

I'm exhausted and I can't fight a smile like that. It's impulse that makes my body shift closer to his.

"Steven?" I whisper and I can feel my warm breath reverberate from his cheek. "How do you feel when I look at you?"

"Loved."

There's a beat of silence. My heart misses, pumps, skips, performs a rhythm it's unfamiliar with.

"Is that…" he starts his voice is hesitant. "Is that OK?" He asks and how can I tell him no? He is loved, treasured and he deserves to know it. But there has not been a single moment I have understood the language of my heart and he has always been its native. So I look into his eyes as I search for the words to say.

But his fingers interweave my own, like he's the one protecting us now. He lifts my hand toward his face, presses my fingers to his cheek and nuzzles his face towards my skin.

Now with the touch of his face against my fingertips, I remember him. Now with my heart aligned with his I know I know him. He, this seventeen year old lad, is the tamer of my monster and the conqueror of my darkness.

I don't protect him out of selfishness; I do so because I need him to know that he is cared for, I need to show him how many doors he opens with a smile. I don't treasure him out of foolishness, it is because he has grown up in a world without love and yet he has the biggest most untainted heart that has ever been open to me. I don't stay out of weakness, I stay because a world without him is cold, muted and colourless and with just one smile he can make everything beautiful again.

I could take this moment as ours. We're surrounded in the dark of night, the full moon our only light. Our only witnesses to this one moment of passion would be the factory chimneys and the darkened shop windows. I reach my thumb to run across his bottom lip, and he sucks in a breath as his eyes greet mine with caution.

And then there's more light than the moon, a flash from a torch is directed behind us and I jump around to investigate. His body makes an impulsive leap into my own, aware of it's protector.

"This is private property, anyone here will be prosecuted," a deep male voice calls.

Shit.

"Fuck, what do we do?" Steven whispers.

"Run!" I shout, leaping from the wall and helping him off.

Steven gathers up speed quickly, running to the fire escape. I follow behind him and as I turn around to shut the door I catch a sight of the man about to challenge us. A fifty something, over weight man, in a shirt pulled too tight across his swollen stomach. As he sees the door close he begins what I can only assume is a jog, but drops a paper bag and a doughnut rolls across the tarmac.

"Damn it!" I hear him curse, "ah well, three second rule."

"Brendan!" I hear Steven whisper a warning.

I can't help but laugh that our intruder is someone so futile.

"It's OK."

***M***

I follow him down the stairs; pull him by the shoulder towards an abandoned shop doorway.

"What's so funny?" Steven asks the moment he makes eye contact with me.

I look at him, his body arched into the wall, his chest heaving as his lungs fight for oxygen. I smile genuinely; I don't need to embarrass him with the knowledge of that cop.

"Twenty years I've been sitting up there, never once has it had _any_ security," I laugh. "I've done all sorts."

"Yeah?" He smiles, stepping close. "Like what?"

His question is a flirt; it's designed to make me smile. But it brings me face to face with every demon that lives up there, including the one I have promised never to talk about.

"A lot of things, things I never want you to know about."

He shakes his head, and I feel the pull of the distance he makes. He laughs quietly at a joke I won't understand, shrinks into his hoody and turns his back on me.

"Where are you going?"

"No clue, for a walk I guess."

"Come home?" I ask and the words feel like oxygen, like I can breathe easily for the first time.

But he shrugs telling me he feels lost and homeless. What is the point in living if you are too scared to try? He is the only light I have felt in years; the boy who lets me create a sanctuary to protect him and the only one who puts me in control when I have spent my life as something uncontainable. I need my days to be full of Steven Hay, like I need my heart to beat and my lungs to breathe. So as he silently asks where his home his, I give him an answer I would do anything to make true.

"Your home's where I keep you safe."


End file.
